Not Fade Away oh boy!
by aims80
Summary: Set after Not Fade Away this is my take on the contiunation of the "Angel" series- how they fought, won, and went on to save the innocents. Some favourites don't make it, some survive. And there are new challenges and demons ahead. Please R and R.
1. Prologue Pt 1: Death becomes her

_Authors note: This story stems from my dissatisfaction at the ending of "__Angel__." I was a bit annoyed that unlike the series finale for "__Buffy__" "Not fade away" didn't tell us how the battle played out or if anyone managed to survive. So I decided to write this. It will basically continue on from the end of the last episode, "Not Fade Away."_

_In case anyone is curious- which I don't think anyone is- I want to explain the title for this story: "Oh boy", by Buddy Holly, was released as the B-side to the single "Not Fade Away."_

_I hope you all enjoy._

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"**NOT FADE AWAY, OH BOY."**

**PROLOGUE: **

**Part 1: "Death becomes her."**

**A week before the battle:**

"**Y**ou can read that as many times as you want, it's not going to change what it says." A female voice said from a dark corner of the office where the late afternoon light through the special windows didn't quite penetrate.

Wesley Wyndam-Pryce jumped slightly; he'd believed himself alone in his office and had been lost deep in his resources. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, across his tired forehead and over his stubbly cheek. His eyes were red rimmed from spending so long peering at small and often barely decipherable text and translating texts from various ancient languages. Books, papers, scrolls and scrawled notes were piled haphazardly over his desk and for once it was not its usual neat stack of files and books. He'd spent the better part of the last 48 hours sitting right there at his desk, reading and re-reading, checking and cross-checking, referencing everything he possibly could, all to disprove what the prophecy said. Unfortunately he was beginning to see that there was nothing he could do to change the outcome- the prophecy was going to come true in seven days from now.

"Don't you have anywhere else to be? Like maybe hell?" Wesley snapped, irritable from lack of sleep and the futility of his research, as well as slightly embarrassed he'd been startled enough to physically jump. He'd begun to get used to that slightly better security that the offices of Wolfram and Hart provided him; although of course people had been known to sneak into the complex on occasions.

"Time off for good behavior." Lilah Morgan stood up and adjusted her skirt, the sunlight dancing on her face. "I was going to go with something a bit more ironic, like a white dress and halo, but unfortunately it wasn't to be and I had to come dressed in this stupid business suit. You'd think being dead would have its advantages- like no dress code."

"And not being here. How long does the standard perpetuity clause last for anyway?" Wesley asked wearily. The rumbling of his stomach reminded him he hadn't had anything to eat in….how long now? Over 24 hours at least. But right now food was the last thing on his mind.

"Eternity, give or take." Lilah said as she crossed the room to Wesley's desk. Pushing a few books aside she perched on the edge of the desk, swinging her ankle idly. "You know it as well as I know it lover- that prophecy couldn't be clearer."

"And prophecies have never lied Lilah? Remember a little thing called the Nyazian scrolls which claimed, very clearly in fact, that the father will kill the son?" Wesley demanded. He knew he was clutching at straws and he was pretty sure Lilah also knew it. There was something about this prophecy which rang undeniably true.

Lilah smiled thinly. "I expected you'd say that. You're far too predictable Wesley Wyndam-Price."

"And you're far too annoying Lilah Morgan." Wesley said without hesitation. Then he shook his head mentally at himself: why was he resorting to school playground name calling matches with his dead ex-lover? He'd gotten a hell of a shock when Lilah had appeared in his office two days ago:

_Wesley was standing at the window, hands deep in the pockets of his trousers, staring out at everything, yet looking at nothing. He was still grieving for the loss of Fred, and wishing he could have inflicted more pain on Knox, when her parents had turned up yesterday out of the blue to take their daughter to Hawaii. Perhaps luckily Illyria had been able to fool the Burkle's into thinking she was Fred and there was nothing wrong but when she'd first come into the office, looking like the woman he loved, Wesley had almost believed it was real- just for a minute. And then reality came crashing back and knowing that it wasn't Fred at all, knowing that Fred was dead, had felt like a punch in the stomach. It felt just like he'd lost her all over again. One of the things that bothered him the most was the fact that he'd almost been tempted- almost- to let Illyria pretend to be Fred for him. After all she had Fred's memories, the ability to look just like Fred, why couldn't he pretend she _was _Fred? But that wasn't Wesley's style. _

_A sleepless night had ensued before he finally gave up on sleep at about five in the morning. He'd gotten up and gone for a run and had a workout- taking his frustrations out on a hapless punching bag- before coming in to the office. He hadn't realized but he had been standing in that exact spot for almost three and a half hours, lost in his own thoughts. And it was that time that Lilah chose to appear._

"_Hey there lover, long time no see. Miss me?"_

_Wesley's body whipped around and he stared at his dead lover in shock. "Lilah?" He managed. _

"_That's me." Lilah crossed the room towards him, a decent sized folder in her hands. "What, no kiss, not even a hug?"_

"_What are you doing here?" Wesley was still shell-shocked._

"_Okay so I'm guessing we're going to skip that pesky manners thing." Lilah said sarcastically. She tossed the folder on Wesley's death. "Prophecy. Read it. And then we'll talk."_

_She had started out of the office but Wesley was quickly across the room and grabbing her arm, not ungently. "Wait a minute. Why are you here? Who sent you?"_

_Lilah glanced down at where his hand was holding on to her forearm. "I'm a messenger from the senior partners. And like I said read the prophecy and then we'll talk."_

"_About what?" Wesley asked, aware that he wasn't exactly at his most articulate nor on form- which he knew was necessary when dealing with Lilah Morgan, but unable to either care or do anything about it. Illyria had really shaken him up with her spot-on comments about his feelings for Fred and he was furious at the demon for playing games with him and his love for the body she'd taken over. The thought of Illyria pretending to be Fred, of having Fred's memories, made him almost physically sick. And the thought of Illyria trying to get him to pretend she really was Fred and do what, make love to her?, was beyond belief. If she wasn't the only remaining link to the scientist he'd loved and he hadn't yet given up on the possibility of somehow returning the real Fred to her body, he'd have killed her himself. Yes she was strong, but love was a good motivation._

"_The weather down in hell- 100 degrees Fahrenheit with chances of a shower. About the prophecy of course." Lilah had said, rolling her eyes. "I thought you were smart Wesley Wyndam-Price." _

_Wesley let go of her arm, his own hand dropping to his side. On top of the pain he was feeling over Fred now he was reminded of the relationship- if you could call it that- he had shared with the lawyer. And her horrible death at the hands of a possessed Cordellia followed by him having to cut her head off to prevent her from rising had Angelus turned her- as at the time they believed it was the unsouled vampire responsible for her death._

"_I told you I forgave you Wesley, for everything you tried to do for me. You're a good man. And a smart man." Lilah nodded in the direction of his death and the folder. "You know that doing what's right isn't always easy."_

"_Lilah-"_

"_Shhh lover." Lilah interrupted him, placing a finger on his lips. "We'll talk soon."_

_Wesley said nothing. He could feel Lilah's fingertips exerting soft pressure on his lips; almost as though she were real too. He almost laughed out loud- what had he done to deserve the pain of the last two days? Seeing two dead lovers unexpectedly wasn't exactly easy. _

_Lilah removed her finger. "I'll be seeing you…"_

"I was so sure that Angel was going to kill Connor that I took his son away from him and let him get sucked into a hell dimension with Holtz. And I lost the trust and respect of my friends for it." Wesley continued angrily.

"Still he turned out all right for someone growing up in Quor-toth. That place is overrated anyway- it's not as evil as you all seem to think it is." Lilah replied with a little shrug.

Wesley said nothing, just looked at her in confusion.

"Wolfram and Hart have got an office there; I've done business with them once or twice. When I was, you know, alive." Lilah said, fingering the silk scarf she wore around her neck to hide the line from where Wesley had been forced to decapitate her in case Angelus had turned her. Her little gesture wasn't lost on Wesley but he chose to pretend it hadn't affected him.

Wesley laughed humorlessly. "Why shouldn't it surprise me that Wolfram and Hart, evilest law firm in the world, has an office in one of the darkest hell dimensions around?"

"Getting off track lover…" Lilah reminded him, uncrossing her legs and recrossing them with the right leg now on top. She ran a hand down her unstockinged leg sensuously and Wesley had a hard time peeling his gaze away.

In an effort to keep on track he remembered that Wolfram and Hart had been spiking Angel's blood with Connor's blood so that the vampire would get a taste for his son and that he'd been tricked so easily into stealing Connor away in the misguided belief it would save the baby's life. His frustration with himself, and Wolfram and Hart and even the Powers that Be, was evident even now, a couple of years later as he said, "I did everything I could to try and disprove that the father would kill the son; I checked the translations, the commentaries, I read all of the Grammaticus Third Century Greek Commentaries- which for the record is rather dull-, I even went to speak to a mystical bloody hamburger!"

"Fascinating." Lilah said, covering her mouth with her hand as she yawned widely. Wesley saw that her fingernails were perfectly manicured and painted a deep blood red- he thought wryly that being in hell was no excuse for a girl to let herself go.

"The point is, Lilah, that the prophecy was wrong-"

"No, not wrong, re-written. Not the same thing." Lilah interrupted him, a little pettily.

"Sahjahn had re-written it so we'd think Angel would kill Connor. Instead the prophecy originally said that the one sired by the vampire with a soul shall grow to manhood and kill Sahjahn. So when I don't believe this prophecy you come waltzing in here from hell for…well can you blame me?" Wesley persisted. He rose from his chair and stood slightly over Lilah. He was getting a bit sick of bantering with his dead lover. It had been the same the first time she'd come back as a messenger, about a year ago, to offer Angel, Fred, Gunn, Lorne and himself the L.A office of Wolfram and Hart after conceding the ground to Angel Investigations who had, inadvertently of course, stopped world peace in killing Jasmine. Seeing her then, and now, reminded him of a bad time in his life, the darker side of him even. When he and Lilah had been together Wesley had been alone and vulnerable and she'd taken advantage of that fact.

"Surely you wouldn't kill me? Besides which- already dead remember?" Lilah said, with a small smile.

"Lilah!" Wesley said warningly.

"Oh relax. I'm a lawyer for heaven's sake- pedantic is my middle name…Tell you what though; I've got a present for you." Lilah said.

Wesley sank slowly back into his chair, realizing Lilah was not about to be bullied. She always was into playing games- and by her rules only. That was one thing about Lilah Morgan; she didn't bow to anyone, she didn't change for anyone.

"You look as though I never gave you a present lover." Lilah complained, looking a little put out.

"Does a signed dollar bill count?" Wesley asked wearily. Besides the fact that Lilah was going to take her time to say whatever it was she'd been released from hell by the senior partners to say he was too tired to play games either.

"That wasn't the only thing I gave you. But let's not live in the past…. holy books, trionic, Covenant of Tromboli, ring any bells?"

Wesley felt deflated. "Lilah those books were lost somewhere in Pylea."

"They were returned to the Covenant not long after you left; someone who had no idea of their true worth found them and returned them. Then, not too long ago, the senior partners had them sent here. And now I'm giving them to you." Lilah explained. She clicked her fingers and suddenly the three books appeared, spread out in order, on the top of Wesley's desk.

Wesley stared at the familiar books; the wolf, the ram and the hart on the front covers. He couldn't help but reach out and trace the cover of the middle one, the ram, just to make sure that they weren't a magical illusion. Then he transferred his gaze to the woman waiting. "Why Lilah?"

She sighed. "Despite your research telling you to the contrary you do not believe the prophecy right? Maybe this will help you believe. The books tell you that this prophecy you've spent so much time trying to prove wrong is the real deal. It _is_ going to happen Wesley and your souled buddy Angel is going to try and take down Wolfram and Hart from the inside. But that's the thing- Wolfram and Hart have been here forever and they'll go on being here forever, no matter what Angel might think. We're simply offering you the chance to keep on fighting. Remind me again though Wes- what does the prophecy say about the battle, the apocalypse to end all apocalypses?"

"That the Trio of Poseidon welcomes the destruction of the secret group and end the Apocalypse saving the one with visions, and- although this wasn't clear despite your implications- another champion, one of pure soul, human." Wesley replied straight away. He knew the prophecy back to front having spent the last two days going through it. Not wanting to believe it and knowing what it said backwards were not necessarily the same thing.

"You're the champion lover." Lilah said, reaching out and stroking his cheek gently. He pulled back automatically and she frowned slightly.

"Angel's the champion. And if the Sanshu prophecy is right-"

"Oh you can forget about the Sanshu- Angel is going to sign away his right to ever become a human." Lilah put in quickly.

Wesley looked at her incredulously. There was no way Angel would do something like that. The thought of becoming human one day was something that he'd been living with for so long, one of the things that drove him to continue his good work. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't look at me like that- it's got nothing to do with the senior partners. The secret group referred to in the prophecy? Angel will sign away his right to Sanshu to trick the Circle of the Black Thorn. They're kind of like the bigwigs. And then the apocalypse and that's where I come in." Lilah said as she stood up.

"I've never heard of this Circle of the Black Thorn before you brought this prophecy in here a couple of days ago. If there really is such a powerful secret group Angel would have told us about them." Wesley said now.

"The fact that Angel is going to take out the Circle of the Black Thorn is set in stone. Literally actually since the prophecy was written on a stone in ancient Burmese times. However it turns out that in the last, oh five hundred years, well after the prophecy was written, there has been a bit of a stoush going on between the circle, who are on this plane, and the senior partners who are on another. So they're not exactly upset about what Angel is going to do. Don't get me wrong, fire and brimstone will still be rained down and the apocalypse is certain. But the senior partners will step in and stop it….if you will agree to the deal that is."

"What's the deal?" Wesley asked again.

"You, the human champion and the one with the pure sight, the visions, will live and come back here to Wolfram and Hart to keep fighting the forces of evil-"

"Wait a minute Lilah. You're telling me that the senior partners of Evil Inc want me to keep fighting against them?" Wesley interrupted.

"Yes; I never did understand them myself for the record. Anyway it's all still the same deal- they did concede L.A to you guys remember? So you two come back here- and anyone else who survives this battle- and keep on helping the helpless. That's what you guys do right?" Lilah couldn't hide the laughter in her voice and the corners of her mouth lifted in a little smirk.

"It's not a claim, we _do _do it." Wesley protested, but without the fire of conviction he'd always had before. He couldn't help but remember that some people- including Buffy and her friends- thought that they'd sold out and were evil. The fact that running Wolfram and Hart gave them access to the sort of thing he could only ever dream of before when working in Angel Investigations and the chance to do more good with the resources than in their entire time in AI hadn't occurred to them. In his heart of hearts though Wesley often wondered whether it was true, whether they'd sold out to evil.

"And the icing on the cake Wes?" Lilah put her palms on the desk and leant across towards Wes, who got a whiff of her favourite perfume which put him on the back foot a bit. "Wolfram and Hart haven't exactly been one hundred percent forthcoming with you."

"Why does this not surprise me?" Wesley muttered sarcastically.

"There is a secret archive under the building, below the carpark and dungeons. Extremely high security- it was only open to a very select few before you all took this place over, not even I knew about it. Members of the Trio have even more access if that's possible. Personally I don't see the excitement but I know you and I know you'd be like Charlie in the Chocolate Factory with all that information Wesley; I can't even begin to describe the sorts of things you'd find in there. Actually no, I could. Your dead friend Fred- did you notice that rhymes, Fred and dead?- I bet you'd love her back. In a no longer blue and skanky Illyria way."

Wesley's head snapped up and he stared at Lilah with a hunger in his face which surprised her. "Wow, I knew you had a crush on the schoolgirl but I didn't know it was that bad…." Lilah said casually.

"This better not be a trick Lilah or else I swear to God I'll-" Wesley began.

"You'll what? I'm dead and in hell remember? There's nothing you could do to make my life worse." Lilah interrupted.

"Don't count on it. If this is some kind of sick, perverted joke then I _will_ make your life worse. I don't know how but I won't rest until I do." Wesley said.

Lilah gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "Whatever. Anyway I don't know the specifics of the spell that could help you get Fred back but back in the late 1400's an incredibly powerful, incredibly evil, alchemist was recruited by Wolfram and Hart, and he gave them the senior partners in the Trio the "how to" guide to bringing back the dead."

Wesley felt sick. And horribly deflated. "Besides the fact that reincarnation spells come with huge unintended consequences the Watcher's Council are completely opposed to their use, to anything that upsets the cosmic order of things. To put it simply they think those that are dead need to stay dead. And, most importantly, Fred's _not dead_."

Lilah frowned slightly. "I guess she's not. I mean her body seems to still be pretty healthy and definitely alive. Okay so no bringing back the dead spells. You need a dispossession spell, something to expel the demon from Fred's body and leave Fred as Fred. Plus once the demon has no host body you should be able to kill her pretty quickly."

"Do you think I haven't looked at all that? Do you think I haven't tried every single conceivable thing to bring Fred back?" Wesley demanded angrily. He rubbed his face in agitation.

"You haven't seen the secret archives. There are spells in there for everything and I know for a fact that a lawyer here in the 1930's was possessed by a very powerful demon, Koklan, from a long race of strong possessor demons, and it took the senior partners awhile but they got rid of the demon and the lawyer went on to live a long and healthy life. You'd probably need a powerful witch though and I don't think you have that now Buffy and her little friends think you've all sold out and are working for the devil...That's too bad. I actually kind of liked Fred. Kind of. Although she was a little too innocent for my liking and I would have thought you preferred a mature, sophisticated kind of woman than a Lolita want-to-be." Lilah said.

"Lilah!" Wesley said warningly.

"Geez, take a chill pill. Like I said the secret archives will tell you how to get Fred back- if Illyria survives the apocalypse that is. And she'd be more likely to survive it if you agreed to the deal so that the senior partners would stop raining down terror quickly." Lilah said, casually brushing non-existent dust from her clothing and deliberately avoiding Wesley's eye. Seeing the hunger and passion in his eyes for Fred had hurt her if truth be known but she hoped she'd hid it well enough. It was easier being tortured down in hell. "All up to you Wes…."

"I need to read these books, do some more research; I need to be sure before I sign anything."

"I guess that's fair. But Wes, like the deal for this place, it's a limited time only offer. And when you sign you sign in blood and if you don't keep the deal there is a pretty heavy termination clause."

"Only to be expected from Wolfram and Hart." Wesley said absently. He was already pulling the books towards him. He hadn't gotten much of a chance to look at them whilst in Pylea and he was anxious to read them, not just for this supposed prophecy, but because they contained a wealth of knowledge that Wesley was desperate to know. While he hadn't said it out loud to Lilah the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach suggested that he knew the prophecy she'd provided him with was real and that the only way to save the city, hell probably the country, was to make the deal. But could he betray Angel again? Because that was what he'd be doing right? Betraying someone he counted as a friend, someone who had done so much good to make up for so much bad? Was there a way to prevent Angel from doing what he was- secretly obviously- planning and signing away his right to Shansu, to taking down the Circle of the Black Thorn? Because that would prevent the problem of betrayal and stop the battle to come… He had so much to think about, so much to read and research, in so little time.

"I'll be seeing you. Three days Wesley." Lilah said.

Wesley didn't acknowledge her.


	2. Prologue Pt 2: Snake in Garden of Eden

_Authors Note: I know it has been a very, very long time since I updated this story but I was going through my fanfic stories the other day and I felt the inspiration to doing this. The first chapter has been changed slightly but essentially remains the same and this chapter is the second part of the prologue which is setting the scene for the story and how I am going to continue on after the series finale. _

_For the reviewer who suggested that it should have been Fred coming to Wes not Lilah I do understand why that would be an idea but for the way the story will continue I think it's necessary for it to be Lilah. Seeing Lilah again, so soon after losing Fred, knocks Wes for six. In the back of his mind he still feels a little guilty about how things ended with Lilah and the fact that he couldn't save her. But it also reminds him of a darker time in his life. When he and Lilah were "together" Wes was suffering after the drama with Connor and Holtz. His friends saw him as betraying Angel and betraying them by not confiding in them and he was, apart from Lilah, all alone. It's for this reason that it had to be Lilah coming to him in this chapter with news of the prophecy, the battle and the deal._

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**PROLOGUE:**

**Part II: "Serpent in the Garden of Eden."**

**4 days before the battle.**

"Hello Wesley." A voice said.

Wesley blinked and looked around. Where was he? The setting was picturesque perfect- startlingly blue sky only marred by a couple of light looking clouds, thick green grass below his bare feet, trees with flowers in incredibly vivid colours, bright pinks, deep purples, stunning oranges. It was like something out of a movie. But even so Wesley couldn't quite shake the feeling that he _wasn't_meant to be here.

"What you're ignoring me?" The woman's voice sounded indignant.

Wesley turned around. And blinked again. "Cordelia?" He asked.

"In the flesh…Well so to speak anyway." Cordelia came towards him and brushed an imaginary wrinkle from her white mini-dress and surveyed her friend thoughtfully. "You look well Wes…Okay I'm lying. You kinda' look like crap."

Wesley wasn't surprised at her directness. "I kind of feel like crap." He responded. What on earth was going on with him? First two visits in his office from the dead Lilah and now he was conversing with the also dead Cordelia.

"I'm not surprised to see you but I bet you're surprised to see me." Cordelia said. She brushed her long, dark hair back from her face and smiled at him.

"Am I dead?" Wesley asked.

Cordelia laughed. "No. You're in a little place some people call The Garden of Eden. Pretty isn't it? Although a beach and a shopping mall might make it more like paradise. I wonder if they've got feedback forms anywhere around here."

"I don't understand. Why am I here?" Wesley demanded.

"Because you obviously _needed _to be. The Powers that Be don't do things without a reason Wes; you know that as well as I do." Cordelia replied.

"I've got work to do-" Wes began.

"I know." Cordelia interrupted him. "The Hindun Prophecy."

Wesley did a double take. "How do you know that?"

"Well for starters being dead has its advantages- like being able to spy but don't worry, I wouldn't ever spy on your more…ah…private moments if you get what I mean, I just spy on the more interesting, the more important events like Fashion Week in France, the Oscars, occasionally Brad Pitt or Jake Gylnnehall in the shower-"

Wesley coughed and Cordelia laughed. "Sorry, you know how excited I get by fashion and hot men. Anyway a lot of people know about the prophecy. Good, bad, evil, dead, alive, the works. What I'm wondering is what are you thinking about it right now?"

"I don't know. We've been tricked before Cordelia and that had disastrous consequences." Wesley said. While he'd said as much to Lilah Wesley felt like with Cordelia he could be more honest about the prophecy, about his thoughts, even more honest about his motivations- why he would, or wouldn't, do what the prophecy implored him to do. He had yet to make up his mind though about whether or not he was going to sign on the dotted line. The deadline was fast approaching but Wesley thought it likely it wouldn't be up until the last minute that he made his decision. What worried him was that he really didn't think this was a trick.

Almost as if she'd read his mind Cordelia nodded sagely. "So you're gun shy? I get that. I know the last thing you'd ever want to do is do something you _think_ is betraying Angel-"

"Isn't it betraying him? Making a deal behind his back?" Wesley interrupted her angrily. Of course his anger wasn't really directed at Cordelia; instead it was more directed inwards, at himself, for seriously considering doing this thing.

"There are two ways this thing can play out. Firstly you do nothing, you ignore this new prophecy, and Angel signs away his right to be human and takes on the Circle of the Black Thorn from the inside, takes them down. And, in retaliation, an Apocalypse of the likes we've never seen before is rained down on the city, the state, the whole freaking country. And in the process you'll probably die, Angel will probably die, Spike will probably die, Gunn will probably die, even the demon who took over Fred's body will probably die. Along with many, many other innocents. Or you take the prophecy as true and live to fight another day, to keep on fighting the good fight. And you, the champion will survive along with the one with the visions-"

"But you're already dead." Wesley interrupted her.

Cordelia shrugged and didn't meet his eyes. "I don't know how that works, I won't pretend to be some kind of prophecy expert. And, if the Apocalypse is stopped in time, its possible Angel, Spike, Gunn, Lorne and Illyria will survive as well. You could all go on doing the work that's so important. I've learnt a bit from the Powers that Be, when I was first taken up there, up to the higher plane, and then from after… you know…, and one thing I can tell you Wes is that the eternal fight between good and evil is something that needs to keep going. What Angel is planning on doing is selfish. He'll be virtually signing the death warrants of his friends as well as all those other "helpless" victims he used to care so much about. He's become one-minded and there is no doubt he's going to do what the prophecy says. The world might end because of his actions Wes! Can you _really_ live with that?" Cordelia demanded. Her eyes met his now and Wes saw the worry in them.

He felt sick. "I don't know what I'm meant to do. You're talking about Angel being selfish but if I do this aren't I being as selfish? He's trying to do what he thinks is right-"

"Has he discussed it all with you?" Cordelia questioned.

"No. He hasn't mentioned it yet. But if this prophecy is right and he wants to take down this Circle of the Black Thorn-"

"He will-" Cordelia interrupted.

"- there is no way he'd do something this big without talking to us about it first." Wesley continued, undaunted.

Cordelia sighed. "I'm sure he'll tell you but if you all say no we're not okay with this do you think he'd change his mind? No. He'd go ahead and do it."

Wesley didn't speak. He was thinking back to through the years that he'd known the souled vampire- including the few soulless occasions- and pondering whether there'd be any chance that Angel would do this without talking to his trusted colleagues, his trusted friends, first. It was not a complete stretch to say that he had always been a bit of a lone wolf but Wesley firmly believed that wasn't the case any longer. No. There was just no way that Angel'd do this without talking to them about it first, asking for their support to do something he clearly believed in.

"You know I'm right." Cordelia said. She touched Wesley's arm gently. "Believe me Wesley on this point: Angel knows about the Circle. He knows that there aren't many ways to take them down, to rid the world of such a powerful evil empire, and he'll do anything to get rid of that threat. At the expense of anyone. Maybe that's why he's yet to talk to you about this?"

Wesley gave her a dirty look. Her words cut to the core of how conflicted he was about this choice. Had he ever made any harder choice? This was bigger than leaving the Watchers Council, bigger than loving Fred, bigger than not killing Knox for what he did, bigger, even, than separating Angel and Connor. He wasn't going to be bullied into making a decision until he had every single fact he could have in front of him.

"For heavens sake Wesley, stop looking at me like I'm corrupted." Cordelia said, annoyed.

"Just answer me this then. Aren't the Circle of the Black Thorn part of the senior partners, or made up of some of them at least?" Wesley asked.

"The Circle of the Black Thorn is a secret society of elite demons who mastermind the path of the apocalypse." Cordelia answered him.

"Are the senior partners part of the Circle? Yes or no." Wesley persisted.

"Yes. To be part of the Circle of the Black Thorn is virtually to be the senior partner's instrument on earth." Cordelia told him.

"Then if this is the case why are they sending Lilah to me with this prophecy, asking me to sign, to become part of this Trio so I could save lives, if they're Black Thorns too?" Wesley asked. This was a question that had been bugging him ever since he'd started reading the prophecy and going through all the books in his possession, the Source books and the ancient texts warning of many things- one of which he'd recognised as Jasmine's arrival which, apparently was foreseen by a powerful Seer in the 1700's. It wasn't just a "loose end" he had to tie up. It was something he needed to know to help him make his decision.

"Ever heard of the senior senior partners?" Cordelia asked, again reaching a hand up to brush her hair back from her face.

"Are you serious?" Wesley asked, his face a mask of confusion.

"Deadly. Ha. That's funny." Cordelia said with a small, mirthless laugh. "These partners, the senior ones, are part of the Trio of Poseidon instead. They don't like the power the Circle has here on earth and having Angel destroy the group is what they desperately want." Cordelia told her old friend.

"So they're _manipulating_ him? There's a shock." Wesley said with a shake of his head as he remembered thinking just the other day about how Wolfram and Hart had done that in the case of Connor and Sahjahn.

"No they're not. There's such a thing as free will Wes. And Angel will use his own free will to do this thing, with no little push from Wolfram and Hart." Cordelia said.

"Why can't the Trio destroy the Circle?" Wesley questioned. "If they want to be rid of them so quickly."

Cordelia sighed, frustrated. "If you've done all the research you'll know that answer."

"Right. They're up there, we're down here. Proximity and all." Wesley replied airily. "So if they welcome this why would they rain down fire and brimstone and turn the streets of LA into a bloodbath where not just their demon clientele will be vastly wiped out, as well as their human employees?"

Cordelia gave a small shrug. "The senior partners will. But the Trio- who has the sort of power to affect big things like apocalypses just like the Black Thorns do- will, if you agree to join them, stop too many deaths. Wolfram and Hart might be evil, the senior partners, the Circle and the Trio, all villains but they want to keep going, to survive I guess you could say. I mean don't they say survival is the biggest instinct humans, and demons, have intrinsically? It's about the balance between good and evil."

"So I'm really meant to do this…believe the prophecy, sign on with the Trio, save lives in the fight, so Wolfram and Hart can continue to exist?" Wesley asked, doubtfully.

"Sure they'll survive to fight another day but so would _you_. There's something I've learnt about with being in contact with them up there and that's about the cosmic energy of the world, the universal struggle between good and evil which needs to keep its delicate balance." Cordelia answered. She sighed heavily. "What do I have to do to convince you Wes? To make you see that the prophecy is one hundred percent genuine and that only one person in this entire world, you, can save the human race."

Wesley shook his head. "I don't know. I wish I did."

"Do you think the Powers that Be sent you to speak to me if they didn't want you to do this? If they didn't think it was the only way out of this mess that Angel- with all the best intentions admittedly- is about to get you all into?" Cordelia demanded. "Anyway that's beside the point. We don't have much time Wes. You were only brought here for a short time- while you're stealing a catnap- for me to convince you I know what I'm talking about. The Trio of Poseidon will welcome the downfall of the secret group and, so long as you agree to a few little conditions, will stop the apocalypse before it goes too far. Angel won't even know you made the deal. How could he?"

"Because he'll be dead. The prophecy only says two will live…" A triumphant look came over Wesley's face. He'd had an epiphany. "Although if I can convince Angel not to sign away his right to Sanshu then he will still be the champion and he and you can go on fighting. Surely that will make up for the things I've done, the bad things."

"NO!" Cordelia's voice was loud and firm. "You can't do that Wes. If he doesn't sign it away the Circle will never trust him and he'll be dead."

"Why are you encouraging me to make a deal with evil? I know you're no angel Cordy, but I didn't think you were evil." Wes said, a little wearily and a little sadly. Had all that she'd been through changed her? And not for the better.

To Wesley's surprise Cordelia actually laughed. "Wes there are great things you can do after this crisis is over, people to save. And this Trio- they're powerful. _Really_ powerful. Their resources, combined with your knowledge learnt from the Watcher's Council, and the resources of Wolfram and Hart, with all that you can- no you will- make a difference, far bigger than Angel Investigations could ever do. This is for the greater good Wesley."

Wesley sighed deeply. "The conditions you mentioned- what are they? I don't quite understand what I'm making a deal for or why it has to be me or even who I'm making the deal with."

"You're making it with the senior partners on behalf of the Trio. It's not hard Wes. You agree to help the Trio, put your name on the paper, and while Angel tricks the Circle and takes them down the Trio will stop the Apocalypse before too many people die." Cordelia answered.

"Even dead you're being evasive." Wesley said, frustrated. "What's the catch? What am I doing to help the Trio?"

"Saving the world. Does there have to be a catch in that?" Cordelia asked. Then she sighed. "Oh for heavens sake, let me show you then, Wes, what will happen if you don't help the Trio, don't become their inside man. Here, give me your hands." She held out her own.

Wesley hesitated and then reached across and put his hands in hers.

"Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. And watch the show courtesy of 'Cordelia-vision' now." Cordelia instructed.

Wesley closed his eyes. For a minute there was nothing, just blackness behind his eyelids, and the faint pinpricks of light that a bright sky let in, and then everything changed. He was watching something unfold, various scenes, kind of like a preview for a coming attraction at the cinemas.

_It was L.A and even though it was still only the afternoon the sky was almost dark, the sun blocked out by something, and the moon beginning to show faintly. All over the city people were screaming about the earthquake that was rocking the city. Only it wasn't an earthquake, it was the beginning of the Apocalypse, the battle to end all battles if the Hindun Prophecy was correct. There was an alley and standing at the end of it were Angel, Gunn and Spike. Facing them was an army of demons- some Wesley recognised from personal experience, some from books, others he didn't know of at all. It looked like Gunn was unwell and then Illyria arrived and told them that Wesley had died and that she didn't understand the feeling of grief and needed violence. And violence was what they were about to get as the army of demons- complete with a dragon screeching overhead- charged them. Then Wesley was looking at a similar scene with a different cityscape, he recognised the statue of Liberty to identify it as New York, and then there was the Whitehouse in Washington D.C being blown to pieces as demons overran the people. Then time was racing by; he could only pick out a few things as scenes blurred into the next- Big Ben, the Pyramids in Egypt- and then a lot of nothingness. There were bodies everywhere, both human and demon, and not many survivors of either kind. And those scenes were repeated in country after country. _

Then it was over and Wesley was standing in the garden with Cordelia again. "Jesus" was all he could manage to say. If that was the future it wasn't much of one. If what he was contemplating doing, if the research he'd done was right and the prophecy had been set into motion long ago, could stop this kind of thing didn't he have an obligation to do anything he could do? Like believe in the prophecy, let Lilah know he'd sign it in his blood. He did not want to be part of the Trio, that was an unfortunate side-effect, but he could worry about that later. Save the world first, save his soul later.

"Not quite I don't think." Cordelia answered. Then she made a face. "Why is it all demons are so icky? They've got seriously bad skin, like vampires, mega hygiene issues, and the tackiest sense of fashion I've ever seen."

Wesley did not have an answer for that one.

"Now do you see why you've got to do this Wes? To stop all that death and destruction? Tell me though, before you have to leave, do you believe this prophecy?" Cordelia continued.

Wesley sighed, wearily. "I've spent all my energy for the last week trying to disprove the prophecy but everything I've looked at, everyone I've spoken to- soothsayers, a couple of demons even- suggests its real. And the lost books that Lilah returned to me only serve to further confirm that the prophecy is real and I'm the only one who can sign it, the only one who can stop this apocalypse…" But he stopped short of saying "yes, I believe" because it wasn't time to say that out loud now. He could tell Cordelia and Lilah that he was going to keep working on disproving it but he was starting to think- not in the least due to Cordelia's little vision of the near future and the desolation of the world as it should be- that was an exercise in futility. Besides saving innocent people and himself he might also be able to save Fred which just might completely tip the scales in the direction of giving his blood oath to Wolfram and Hart's senior partners, to the mystical senior senior partners and the Trio.

"Have you heard of the Urn of Zamwar?" Cordelia asked.

"I recall hearing it mentioned somewhere. It's from Egyptian times, it's been in the hands of various powerful demons at various stages, and it spent most of the 1900's in a private collection before being handed to a museum somewhere after the collector's death in 1998. Am I close?" Wesley asked.

"Spot on. It's in Boston. And if you go and look at that urn Wes you'll see the writings on it will mention the downfall of the Circle of the Black Thorn welcomed by the Trio of Poseidon. Just a little bit more proof for you Wes, the proof you asked me for a couple of minutes ago." Cordelia told him. "You've got to go back now, wake up. But you have to remember this Wes- believing this prophecy, signing on, it's not only your destiny but it's your only real chance at survival. At LA's chance, possibly the rest of the country if the apocalypse spreads as they're apparently wont to do. Demons aren't much for staying in their own territory."

"Thank you." Wesley said.

Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "For?"

"Helping me. Letting me know the Powers that Be are on board this thing. Letting me know it's real. Making me feel less of a backstabber." Wesley answered.

Cordelia smiled. "You're welcome Wesley. You're a good man. Don't forget that."

* * *

Gunn stuck his head around the door to Wesley's office. He wanted to talk to him about Angel. Angel wasn't like other people, not just because he was virtually immortal and possessed a preternatural strength on account of him being a vampire, but he'd been acting different the last week or so. He spent more time alone. And when he was with them Gunn always felt like his mind was somewhere else. He hadn't voiced his concerns with anyone and he thought that Wesley was probably the best person to talk to about it, after all Wesley was by far the most intelligent man he'd ever met and if anyone had a clue about what was going on in Angel's head it could be him.

But he saw now that Wes's head was face down on his desk, in the middle of a pile of books. He grinned slightly- he was like a kid with a candy bar and he had been ever since they'd come to Wolfram and Hart. If there was anything that made him believe they'd done the right thing Wesley was that it. But on the other hand if they hadn't come they'd never have lost Fred. That sobered him up. After all he'd cared for the girl almost as much as Wesley had…

Almost as if Wesley sensed Gunn's presence in the room he sat up, a little flustered. He cleared his throat. "Gunn. Have you been there long?" He asked, straightening his glasses which were sitting askew on his face, and running a hand over his face to try and rub away the remnants of sleep.

The conversation he'd just been having with Cordelia- in the dream world of the Garden of Eden- was still stuck in his mind and ideally he wanted a bit of time to go over what was said, to make sure there wasn't any hidden message in the words, that there was no chance it wasn't Cordelia and instead was some kind of illusion sent by Wolfram and Hart's senior partners, or the Trio perhaps, to convince him that the prophecy was real and that he alone could stop the devastation that would hit LA in only a few days time. There was no point asking her that because even if she was a fake she'd lie. Although she _sounded_ like the Cordelia he knew- lamenting that paradise wasn't paradise without a mall and beach, wearing some kind of expensive high-end fashion dress, being sarcastic and occasionally blunt.

"No, only a few seconds. Wes have you got a few minutes? There's something I really need to talk to you about?" Gunn asked, still hovering in the doorway.

Wesley nodded his consent and closed some of the books. He didn't want Gunn to see some of the English texts and start asking questions. Obviously he didn't need to worry about him reading the older texts, nor the books written in long dead languages.

Gunn closed the door and went into the office. He sat down opposite Wesley and gathered his thoughts. "It's about Angel. Wesley I think he's hiding something."

Wesley was a little startled. He had been thinking the same thing but then again he now knew there was a very real, a very big, reason for this. Sometimes he really underestimated Gunn. He was definitely more street-smart than book-smart, he was a hell of a fighter with a very big sense of right and wrong, but he was obviously intuitive as well. Rather than giving his own opinion Wesley asked "Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's evil again?" Gunn suggested.

Wesley shook his head. "No. Believe me if he was, if his soul had disappeared again, we'd know about it. Primarily because we'd all be dead."

"Okay so maybe it's something about this place. I mean wasn't it founded not only be lawyers, which we all know are, generally, bad enough in themselves, but also by evil lawyers, demons even? It could be corrupting Angel. Or power. Power corrupts right?"

Gunn pushed.

Wesley frowned. It was like Gunn was clutching at straws, trying to find a real explanation, a plausible one, for what was happening with Angel. "It could be something personal. Maybe something to do with Nina? Or perhaps our friend Marcus is bothering him more than usual? It could be anything and unless he wants to talk to us about it there's nothing we can do." He said.

"Well I think we should talk about it Wesley. Have some kind of emergency meeting. You, me, Spike, Illyria maybe, even Lindsay since he really knows this place, knows Wolfram and Hart best, to work out whether something is happening with Angel, something that could place us in jeopardy." Gunn continued.

"Okay. I've got to go to Boston tonight though, if I can get a flight, but I'm hoping to be back tomorrow night at the latest-"

"What's in Boston?" Gunn interrupted.

"An Urn I want to see. It's incredibly old, I don't even know the real date it was made, only rumors because it was so long ago. I do know though that Julius Caesar was in possession of it at one stage, same with Cleopatra, Atilla the Hun, many, many other well known names." Wesley replied. Obviously he wasn't going to explain to Gunn precisely why he wanted to see the Urn.

"So it's an evil Urn? And Wolfram and Hart want it somehow. You need me to come with? Help steal it?" Gunn asked.

"It's not evil. It's just an Urn, no magical properties, no value for this firm unless they're running out of money and want to sell the thing. No, I'm not stealing it. I want to see it." Wesley answered.

Gunn looked perplexed. "Why?"

"Oh trust me you wouldn't be interested. It's just the most amazing specimen of its kind, the way it was made, the decorations and words carved into it, its just mouth-watering." Wesley answered. He didn't feel too uncomfortable saying this- after all wasn't it half true? It was an amazing piece of artwork.

"You're right. I wouldn't be interested. So when you get back can we please talk about Angel?" Gunn asked.

Wesley nodded. He'd have liked to leave Lindsay out and tell them all of the prophecy so they'd have the full facts if- no when, he had to believe it was when- Angel told them about the Circle of the Black Thorn and what he was planning. But he didn't think that would work. Keeping this to himself, having the burden of making such an enormous decision, was better. It wasn't fair to the others to know the things he knew. Perhaps later he'd change his mind but not right now. And he knew that talking to his colleagues was the best idea, better than them talking without him and maybe coming to conclusions that were wrong and almost as dangerous as Angel's plan.


	3. Prologue Pt 3: Dealing with the Devil

_A/N. Just a quick comment: I don't know whether they have the "Angel" comics in Australia or where they'd have them to buy if they did but for those of you who have read them can you let me know whether they did anything like I'm doing in my story here because I'd hate to have it the same as the comics. _

_Also I know there are bits in here that have come straight from the "Power Play" episode but I needed them in for some background as to what was happening. _

_And for the reader who mentioned liking Lindsey I agree- I think he should have survived the apocalypse to continue trying to find redemption. I liked that he wasn't necessarily good or evil but somewhere in the middle. He might be making an appearance in this story but I'm not going to say anything more yet…_

* * *

**PROLOGUE:**

**Part III: "Dealing with the Devil."**

**3- 2 days before the battle.**

**I**n the Museum of Fine Arts's "Art of the Ancient World" collection Wesley cut a solitary figure. Considering the museum housed some of the finest collections of mummies, ceramics and sculptures from ancient Egypt and Greece and the Roman Empire he'd wanted to stop and peruse the collection but he was aware of the ticking clock hanging over his head. This was the last stop before he had to make a decision about the Trio and what to do.

And so he'd spent the last two hours- with closing time a mere twenty minutes away- sitting in front of the Urn of Zamwar. It was as magnificent as he'd remembered from his training at the Watcher's Council and, not for the first time, he wished that "The First" hadn't had his agents decimate the Council because their resources would no doubt come in handy now. He knew that some things had survived, some books, as well as some knowledge from a couple of Watchers who had luckily survived the fate that befell most of their colleagues. In a terse conversation with Rupert Giles he'd found that he was working on getting the Council started again but had no information on any group called the Circle of the Black Thorn nor the Trio of Poseidon. Wesley knew that it wasn't just the fact that he was talking to someone across the ocean that counted for the silences and brisk tones. Clearly it wasn't just Andrew and Buffy who thought that they'd made a deal with the devil. Wesley obviously didn't say so to Giles but his reaching out to him now wasn't just about the two secret groups. He was working at beginning to repair the shredded relationship because, if Lilah was being honest, he was going to need a very powerful witch to help bring Fred back. And the only witch he could think of who was anywhere near that powerful was Willow Rosenberg.

'_Back to the Urn Wesley!'_ He inwardly scolded himself.

The Urn was made out of white clay and, even after the time that had passed, still sported bright colours and hieroglyphics. The only blemish was a small crack down one side. Around the top of the urn were the words Wesley needed to see. He knew some of them such as "secret", "champion" and "destiny." But others were unclear and he'd copied them down in his notebook to take back to L.A to completely translate.

Wesley felt even more conflicted as he'd had time to think on the standby seat he'd taken on a flight that lunchtime. His thoughts had been centered around Cordelia- could he truly trust her? He was beginning to see that this was going to have to be a decision he made based on instincts, without being influenced by the ghost of Lilah, or the vision of Cordelia, nor of the carrot dangling in front of him of the possible return of the woman he loved. When Wesley had his books that told him what was what, what to do, he was fine. But this was an entirely different circumstance altogether.

Checking the notes on his page against the writing on the Urn one last time he stood up and felt his back and neck ache with tension and from sitting in the one spot concentrating so hard for so long. He put the notebook inside the bag he'd slung over his shoulder and, with one last look at the Urn, as if hoping for an answer to suddenly pop out clearly, he turned and walked away.

Arriving on the Red Eye back to L.A Wesley didn't bother going to his apartment. Instead he went to his office and opened up a Source Book. He'd not thought of getting a history in there for the Urn of Zamwar and he thought some background history before he began his translation could be helpful.

"Urn of Zamwar, made in Ancient Egypt, estimated somewhere between the 4th and 8th dynasties, or 2575 to 2150 B.C. This was about the same time that the Great Pyramids were built at Dahshur and Giza and where pyramids and tombs included the first extensive inscriptions." He read out loud to himself. "The Urn has two main pictures, one on each side, both of whom were revered as Gods in Ancient Egyptian times. Firstly there is Isis, who was revered for her magical powers and her devotion to her husband Osiris and their son Horus. Isis acts as a divine mourner of the dead. The other picture is of Ptah, depicted as a mummified man standing inside a shrine holding a measuring rod, who was seen as the patron-god of craftsmen. Around the top of the Urn is an inscription prophesizing the formation and ultimate destruction of a secret group known only as the Trio. The prophecy claims that a human champion will be the only one who will be able to stop the destruction of society."

Wesley closed the book and sat down in his seat. So the source book knew of the Urn as well as the Trio but, clearly, not of everything because if there was any suggestion that the Circle of the Black Thorn, the senior partners instruments on earth, could be destroyed it wouldn't be put into the source book. He reached under a couple of books and took out a text that would give him the tools to completely identify the hieroglyphics from the Urn.

Half an hour later Wesley looked down at his notepad and read it in his mind:

'_When the souled vampire gives up his right to become human he will take down the secret group. An apocalypse will be rained down upon the city that could end human civilization as it is known. Only one person can stop them: a true champion, of human lineage, who will, with the Trio, stop the bloodbath. The Trio has existed forever and will exist forever, as long as demons and humans roam the earth.'_

He exhaled loudly. _Now_ did he have everything he needed to know?

* * *

"Dollar for your thoughts?" Harmony Kendall asked, coming into the room behind Wesley who was absently adding sugar to his tea.

"Huh?" Wesley looked up.

"You looked like you were about a million miles away. And you've just added the fourth teaspoon of sugar to your tea since I've been standing here." Harmony responded. She opened the fridge and pulled out a container marked "Harmony's Blood Only" and put it in the microwave.

"Not quite a _million_ miles- how far away is it to Boston?" Wesley said, taking the teaspoon out of his mug and rinsing it in the sink.

Harmony looked perplexed. "I don't know…Why Boston though? Oh. Because of the tea party. Because you're British and all." She nodded knowingly as the microwave beep signaled the blood was warmer. She removed the container and poured it into a cup.

"Yeah that'd be it." Spike's voice cut in. "Did you get the Senator's Aide his blood?"

"I did. They're in Angel's office now talking shop. I better get back to the front." Harmony said, giving the two men a small wave and sashaying off.

Spike watched her go thoughtfully. "Good looking but not a brain cell in her head. Pity." He mused. "Now about this Boretz demon-"

"Forget it. Angel's the boss around here and he doesn't seem to care about Stacey or any other _statistic_." Wesley snapped. He was annoyed at himself for getting emotional but Angel's attitude puzzled him. Since when did the vampire "not sweat the small stuff" anyway? He might be occupied with something but then so was Wesley- he'd spent days trying to disprove a prophecy and he still cared about the Boretz demon's latest victim. He snatched up his tea cup and went back to his office to look up the Boretz demon in the Source books.

Placing his cup of tea on the side of his desk Wesley opened the book and asked about the Boretz demon only to be told he was looking in the wrong place. And then there was a symbol, a symbol that was strangely familiar. He stared at it for a good minute, trying to place it and then he frowned slightly and turned the book a little. It looked like a circle of thorns. The Circle of Black Thorns. He felt his stomach drop- the prophecy was coming true…

Wesley took a deep breath. He had so many important questions. Like what was Angel not telling them about the Circle of the Black Thorn and what would he tell them? How did he know who they were and how long had he known? And, most importantly of all, how long ago did he make the arbitrary decision to take them down, knowing it could lead to the deaths of his friends as well as many other helpless, innocent people. Maybe Lilah and Cordelia were right: this was something he _had _to do.

Gunn walked into the office. "We've got a serious problem. It's Angel. He's-"

Wesley looked up at Gunn. "Hold on."

* * *

Lindsey McDonald was sitting at the table, looking down at his hands. "I told you, I don't know why Angel gave up that kid. Or anything else. Me and him, not too close. I gotta' get back to my game of Solitaire."

Wesley reached over the table and showed him the picture he'd drawn earlier, the one he'd seen in the Source book while looking for information on the Boritz demon.

Lindsey's face changed subtly but then he managed to regain his nonchalant expression. "Where'd you get that?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter. What does it mean?" Wesley demanded.

Lindsey laughed. "Is this what all this is about? All these questions about Angel." He glanced at the drawing and then shook his head slightly. "No. No way. No way they'd take Angel."

"Who they?" Spike asked.

"The Circle of the Black Thorn." Lindsey responded.

"Sounds like a little sewing club for pirates." Lorne commented.

"It's a secret society." Lindsey said.

"Never heard of them." Gunn said dismissively.

"That's 'cause they're secret." Lindsey said.

Gunn smirked.

Wesley leant forward again. It was time Lindsey told them about this mythical circle of the Black Thorn and then they'd have no choice for it but to confront Angel.

* * *

Angel pulled a crystal out of his pocket and held it out in front of him. "Involvere." He said. The crystal glowed. "All right. We have six minutes."

"Til what?" Spike asked.

"The glamour collapses. As far as anyone outside this room is concerned, we're still at each other's throats." Angel explained.

"Aren't we?" Wesley asked coldly.

"Look, we don't have a lot of time here, so I'm gonna' have to make this short. Everything you think you know, everything you've heard is a lie." Angel said earnestly.

Wesley's mind automatically went back to the conversations he'd had with the ghosts of Lilah and Cordelia- was _everything_ a lie? Could there be anything to make this more difficult for him, to make him more conflicted about what he should do?

"Why should we believe you?" Gunn asked, the hostility and disbelief evident in his voice.

"Because I'm the one who told it. Read any good books lately?" Angel asked.

Wesley looked at him sharply. The picture of the Circle of the Black Thorn that had shown up in the Source book earlier. "You sent us the message?"

Angel told them everything then; about how Cordelia had given him the vision, about the demons in the Circle, about how to finally get one up on the powers of evil. And then, finally answering Wesley's questions, he said "10-1 we're gone when the smoke clears. They will do everything in their power to destroy us. So…I need you to be sure. Power endures. We can't bring down the senior partners, but for one bright, shining moment, we can show them that they don't own us. You need to decide for yourselves if that is worth dying for. I can't order you to this. I can't do it without you. So we'll vote. As a team. Think about what I'm asking you to do, think about what I'm asking you to give."

* * *

Wesley felt sick. Was he really about to do this? Make a deal with Lilah? With the devil? He understood what Angel was thinking, what he wanted to do, and worse, he actually believed in it if the Circle were as bad as they were supposed to be. Yet he was still about to betray his friend. Again. And no matter how he justified it it didn't sit well with him. To make matters worse he was thinking about preventing the apocalypse from Cordelia's vision but he was also thinking about Lilah's hint that there was a way to get Fred back. Maybe that was selfish of him but he couldn't help it- seeing Illyria every day cut him to the bone.

Pacing up and down his office he paused to look out the window at the night time L.A cityscape. He took a deep breath. "Angel's not really thinking clearly, he thinks we'll be the ones to die only, he's not thinking about all those innocents that Cordelia showed me in her vision…" He said out loud to himself.

"I hear talking to yourself is the first sign of madness." Lilah said.

Wesley didn't turn around. "If it is then I went mad a long time ago."

"So Angel finally shared his plan with you. And you said you were in but here we are, about to make a deal. How does it feel to be a Judas?" Lilah enquired.

Wesley spun around to glare at her. "Don't. Just don't okay." He snapped, going back over to his desk and sitting down.

Lilah held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Geez don't shoot the messenger." She muttered.

"I want to know some things. Before I sign this thing. I need to be sure." Wesley said, looking at his desk rather than his ex, and also dead, lover.

"Like?" Lilah asked, coming across and sitting opposite him.

Wesley looked at her thoughtfully. Interesting that she wasn't in a witty bantering mood, not her usual feisty self. Maybe hell was all it cracked up to be after all. Wesley'd never been an overly religious man but as a child, raised in the Church of England faith, he'd attended Sunday School and later on Church for Sunday Mass. It had stopped after he'd finished school and ended up getting involved with the Watcher's Council. He'd asked his father once how he continued to go to Church, to believe in God when he saw such horrible things day in and day out. His father's response had been that those were the times he most needed his faith. "Angel's vision from Cordelia- was it also what I saw?"

Lilah gave a small shrug. "I can't answer that because I don't know what kind of vision Angel got from Cordelia. But I suppose it's possible. It had to be something big for him to make such a reckless decision." She suggested.

"And Angel is under the impression that none of us are likely to survive. True or false?" Wesley asked.

"That depends on you Wes. Don't get me wrong, the senior partners are going to be pissed. _Seriously_ pissed. But most of them don't know about the Trio or about the power they have. I know the Black Thorns have major power but the Trio; they've got absolute power Wesley. And it is only you who can make a deal with them to save the lives of yourself and your friends. The prophecy tells us that you and someone else, the one with the visions, are fated to survive this thing. The Trio also tell me that they'll save as many people- and as a bit of a drawback for your line of work- demons as possible." Lilah answered.

Wesley sighed. "One last question- why do the Trio want the Circle of the Black Thorns gone so badly?" He asked.

Lilah took her time to answer. "I'm not confidante to everything about the Trio you understand. But they want to take the power that the Circle currently holds and, I'm guessing, the power the senior partners hold from their lofty plain. Unfortunately unlike the Circle they don't have the instruments on earth to destroy the Circle so, they turned to the prophecy, and from there to you." She responded.

Wesley didn't say anything. He had all his answers, he knew what he should do- had in fact known it for awhile now when all the texts, all his sources, everything showed the truth in the prophecy- but actually signing the paper was harder than he'd imagined.

Lilah gave an impatient sigh and looked at her watch- a Cartier watch she'd been given upon her promotion. "I don't mean to rush you lover but I've kind of got places to be…"

"Right. Back to hell." Wesley said, nodding.

"So. Are we going to do this thing?" Lilah pushed.

"We're going to do it." Wesley answered.

Lilah looked pleased. "You've made the right decision Wes."

"Why does that, coming from you, not inspire great confidence in me?" Wesley muttered.

"But it didn't come just from me. It came from books, texts you respect more than anything, it came from Cordelia and the Powers that Be…" Lilah hastily reminded him. She clicked her fingers and a thick piece of paper appeared in her hands. She placed it on the desk between her and Wesley.

Wesley looked down. The contract was written in thick black lettering, reminiscent of Medieval English in both the calligraphy and the spelling. It was short and to the point:

"_I, the undersigned, agree to become a member of the Trio of Poseidon. I understand that as a member I will have certain rights and privileges not afforded to non-members. Furthermore I promise to faithfully observe the Trio's "Secrecy Clause" the penalty for disclosing which is immediate death. In addition my signing of this document paves the way for the destruction of the Circle of the Black Thorn and stops the prophesized apocalypse before it consumes society." _

Wesley nodded and picked up a pen but Lilah stopped him with her hand covering his. "Not a ball point pen Wesley. It's kind of like a standard Wolfram and Hart contract and requires signing in your blood. To clinch the deal so to speak." She reminded him.

"Where do I get-" Wesley began.

"Hold out your hand." Lilah instructed him.

He did as he was told and she clicked what looked like a normal pen down and then placed the tip on his palm. He felt the sharp sting and exhaled. "Sorry, I'll be quick." Lilah told him. She pushed further down with the pen on his palm and, instead of black or blue ink, it filled slightly with red blood. Wesley's blood. Then she handed him the pen.

Wesley took a deep breath and then scrawled his signature on the bottom line. "Done." He said.

"Done." Lilah echoed. She sighed dramatically. "Well I better get going. There's no rest for the wicked."

Wesley didn't say anything in response. He was running the gamut of emotions- fear that he'd just made the worst mistake of his life- bigger even than being instrumental in taking Connor away from Angel-, fear that he'd betrayed Angel, slight pride in the fact that he could be the one who was trusted to make the hard decisions, the ones people like Lorne, Gunn, Fred- if she were still Fred-, even Spike perhaps, couldn't make, and uncertainty about what the near future would hold and how this thing was going to play out.

Lilah stood up and clicked her fingers again. The contract disappeared into thin air and she put the pen in her trouser pocket.

"One last thing though Lilah. What do you get out of this?" Wesley asked.

Lilah laughed, but it was a humourless one. "A day trip or two out of hell I guess."

Wesley was silent for a moment. He couldn't, of course, pretend to understand, to comprehend, what hell would be like. And considering some of the things Lilah'd done she'd no doubt have more than her fair share of demons- inner and physical manifestations of monsters she'd sent to hell herself- haunting her down there. He didn't quite understand why he felt sorry for her. "I guess that this is it then. We're probably not going to see each other again." Wesley said, a little awkwardly.

"Never say never…" Lilah muttered but there wasn't complete conviction in her voice. Not like her usual air of confidence anyway.

"Right. Of course." Wesley said.

Lilah avoided meeting his eyes by looking intently at her Jimmy Choo's. Her maudlin tone affected Wesley. Not only was Lilah a lawyer- which was bad enough- but she was the sort of person who would go after what she wanted completely and utterly bloody-mindedly, uncaring about people who might get in her way, ruthless in getting what she wanted. But she was also a human being. Or had been. And she and Wesley had had something going, even if it had resulted purely from his isolation within Angel Investigations and had just been something to ease the pain and loneliness. Plus there was the fact that Wesley had wondered, in the year or so since her death, whether he could have done something to prevent it.

"I told you the other day Wes, I forgave you. You shouldn't torture yourself over me. Think about Fred, the woman you love, and getting her back. Not me." Lilah said. Her tone was overly-casual and it did not fool Wesley.

"Fred's a good person Lilah. If she wasn't I wouldn't care so much about getting her back. And yes, she might be the opposite of you- bookish, sometimes a little shy, not at all mature and sophisticated- but I love her." Wesley told Lilah.

She gave a small laugh. "I know you do. I know she loved you too. If anyone can get her back, using the Trio's secret resources down in the sub-level I told you about, it is you. Love can make a person do extraordinary things." She said. "Like the tales about mother's who lift cars to get to their dying or badly injured children."

"I did love you too Lilah. In my own way. It was different to the love I had for Fred but it was some kind of love even though I'm still completely unsure of how to catagorise it." Wesley said. Was it true though he wondered internally? He thought it probably was. But even if it wasn't Lilah needed to believe it was.

Now Lilah met his eyes. Wesley could place the look on her face, the look in her eyes and smile and he knew that she felt pain over his love for Fred and that she really had cared about him, it hadn't just been a strategic or business move in sleeping with him. Although of course it had added to the appeal no doubt. "Thank you Wesley. You truly are a good person, a champion even, Wesley Wyndham-Price and you're doing the right thing here." She told him.

"God I hope so." Wesley replied.

"So I better be going…" Lilah said, but she hesitated.

"I wish there was something I could do for you. You brought me this prophecy, you made me stand up for something I believe in, and what do you get for that? You get to go back to hell. It doesn't seem right." Wesley said.

"Maybe there _is s_omething you can do for me. Who knows what kind of things you'll find in the secret resource centre." Lila responded. There was a slight twinkle in her eye. "So instead of saying goodbye I'm just going to say 'see you later' lover."

And then, before Wesley could speak, Lilah Morgan was gone. And there was no turning back for Wesley now. The only thing he could do was move forward and pray he'd made the right decision.


	4. 1: You call this an apocolypse?

**Chapter I: "You call **_**this**_** an Apocalypse?" **

**W**esley found, much to his surprise, that he slept remarkably well that night. Surprising considering how tumultuous his thoughts had been the past few days, and the myriad of emotions he was feeling after signing the contract to betray Angel…but no, he wasn't going to think of it that way. He'd signed the contract to help not just L.A but the world, to make sure that they all got to breathe another day, and went on blissfully unaware that there was a whole other world out there, and, most importantly, that some of his friends might manage to survive this thing. Which they wouldn't have had he not signed. So perhaps that was the reason for his great sleep. He downed a very strong scotch on the rocks before getting into bed and was almost asleep before his head hit the pillow. And he dreamt the dreamless sleep of the young or the innocent. And so he felt rather good in the morning. He showered, shaved, dressed and breakfasted and then went to work.

Gunn was the first one he encountered. "D-day Wes. You ready?" He asked. Not surprisingly nobody could refer to what was going to happen that day because this was meant to be a super-secret thing. And the tension in the air because of that only would have strengthened the illusion that Angel and his sidekicks were still angry at one another after the day befores fight.

"As ready as I'll ever be." Wes responded.

In his office he stood by the window, watching the world go by below for quite awhile. He was making a habit of doing this and he wondered, briefly, whether it was at all megalomaniac of him to look down on L.A and think "I saved you!" He felt a little bit like a king surveying his kingdom. If he hadn't put pen to paper- well, blood to paper if you were going to be pedantic about it- all this, all signs of life, would be gone by this time tomorrow. It was a strange feeling to be so relaxed and calm, so sure of himself, after so many days of agonized soul searching and wrestling with his internal demons. And he knew it was all from him making the right decision. It had given him this newfound sense of…well…pride in being the only one who'd been asked to do the right thing and making that call on his own. It was egotistical and he knew that of course but he felt rather chuffed about him having been the subject of a prophecy. Normally they were reserved for supernatural creatures. Like Angel who'd had a few of his own.

But his happiness at this fact was soured by the knowledge he couldn't tell any of his friends about this prophecy. The wording on his contract had been clear- tell anyone about the Trio and you'd suffer instant death. And no doubt the manner of that death would be one of most painful going round. It reminded Wes of high school history back in England and he learnt that the penalty for a sentry falling asleep on duty during times of war was death, that the soldier would face the firing squad. And what had bothered Wes was that he'd actually thought it made sense, in a cold kind of a way.

After the Apocalypse failed to get off the ground, the senior partners were stopped from raining hell and hopefully all of his friends and co-workers survived they'd be asking questions. They'd no doubt want to search for answers but there weren't any answers readily available unless you really knew where to look so they wouldn't find any. And they'd probably rely on him to look for the answers in the books and ancient texts and he'd just come up empty handed and, subtly, suggest that it's a good thing that they lived to fight another day and save innocents from demons and keep the world as much to rights as they could. Basically not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Wesley had kept secrets before and he'd keep them again no doubt.

Everybody on the team had their different roles. Some were more important than others, some were more dangerous, some people were petrified about what they were doing, others were sure it was just the right thing to do and willing to go out fighting, doing a good thing.

Wes just prayed everyone followed their instructions to the letter and that the Trio were lighting quick to intercede and take down the Circle of the Black Thorn hastily and efficiently to minimize the casualties and increase the chances of his friends all surviving the Apocalypse.

As Wes opened the main door of the apartment building and stepped down the three concrete steps he felt the cold breeze hit his face and he took a deep breath, and then another. Slowly exhaling he rubbed at the knot in his neck with more than necessary vigor; some might even say ferociousness. The fresh air helped his mood improve marginally.

What had been fury and worry had been downgraded to anger and concern. And what bothered him the most was the way his body and mind had reacted when they'd entered Spike's apartment and seen Illyria lying there.

Wes had been the first to reach her, and he'd asked anxiously if she could hear him? When she responded he'd still gathered her into his arms and held her close as Spike, Gunn and Lorne talked, his ears half listening to the conversation, and half busy with the blood that was pounding in them. He'd felt his heart skip a few beats when he first saw the condition of Illyria; he'd been petrified she was gone forever- more, that _Fred _was gone forever. Then he'd been worried about Illyria's condition. Then worried that they were maybe doing the wrong thing following Angel.

And now what was bothering him most of all was that he'd been worried for Illyria. Not just for her as who she could possibly be once the Trio resources were at his disposal, but for her as she was, all Blue and supernatural. Some would say there was nothing wrong with his feelings, that being concerned for another person (or sort of person) was a human characteristic and not being concerned about someone's misfortune would be more of a problem. And they'd be right, in theory at least. But what was bothering Wes was more that he realised in those few moments of terror, that he cared for Illyria. As she was, rather than as she had been or maybe could be. That was enough to scare the heck out of him.

He strode to the car, yanked the door open, and got in. He went through the motions routinely- closing the door, putting his seatbelt on, turning the key, putting the car in gear and checking his rearview mirror before indicating to pull out from the street. But when his eyes met another set of eyes in the rearview mirror he made a sort of yelping noise of shock.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to check your car's backseats and front before you got inside it? To make sure no dangerous boogeyman was lying in wait?" The owner of the strange eyes inquired. He had a sharp accent and Wes pinged it as Scottish, probably on the border of England's territory.

Wes went to turn his face around but he was stopped with the pressure of cold steel against his neck. The stranger could move faster than light, or he'd had his hand by the headrest of Wes's seat already, anticipating that Wes wasn't going to just nod politely and continue to drive. "Don't. Just drive."

"Where?" Wes asked.

"Wherever you're heading. I won't take up much of your time." Scottish man said.

So Wes drove- he pulled out of his parking spot and headed south. "Who are you?"

"Hmm…You don't need to know who, specifically. Just that I'm a representative of your last employer." Scottish man replied.

"Watcher's Council." Wes said, a statement rather than a question. He simply knew it was true.

"Precisely. Well the new version of the council rather." Scottish Man confirmed.

"And you're here for…" Wes trailed off.

"Your help." Scottish man said simply.

Wes laughed bitterly. "Oh and _now_ you're all sugar and spice and all things nice. Last I heard you considered we were all sell outs and thought that by working at Wolfram and Hart we were the devil incarnate." He said.

"I'm not entirely convinced you aren't. Unfortunately the council needs your help." Scottish man said.

"With all due respect- actually no, bugger that, without any due respect- what makes you think I'd even want to help you, let alone consider it? You abandoned us." Wes said, heatedly.

Scottish man snorted. "Oh that's a bit drama queen of you Wesley, don't you think?"

"No, I bloody well don't think! You can huff and puff-"

"And blow your house down?" Scottish man interrupted.

'_Take a ticket mate and get in line. We've had a previous offer.'_ "You can threaten me, hell you can even beat me black and blue but you're wasting your time. No deal. There will never be a deal between me and the Watcher's Council again." Wesley finished.

Scottish man was silent for a good minute or so and Wes was beginning to think he wasn't even going to reply. "You do remember that you were the one to quit the council, not the council quitting you."

"My memory's quite fine, thank you. I'm speaking more about Angel Investigations. I'm a big boy, I can handle having my old bosses think I've turned evil, but when you put innocents in danger-"

"Innocents in danger? How?" Scottish man interrupted.

Wes took a deep breath. Careful, careful. Today was far too precarious to go mouthing off and giving any information away. No matter how provoked. "By walking away. You made it clear you didn't approve one bit and that's your prerogative. Everyone is entitled to their opinions. Even when they're the wrong ones…like yours."

"For what it's worth there was a minority in the council- myself amongst them- who doubted that you'd all turned bad. But that's neither here nor there. Your council needs you Wesley Wyndham-Price." Scottish man said.

Wes thought of the poster he'd seen in history books from America in the early days of their entry into the war, with the man pointing a finger and telling people that your country needs you. "Damn! I forgot to renew my council membership. My bad. I guess I can't be of service. Terribly sorry old chap and all that…"

"Oh for god's sake. Cut it out Wesley. You're acting like a spoilt little brat." Scottish man complained.

"And also I don't think I put much stock in a Watchers Council who recruits Andrew." Wes added.

Scottish man paused a moment. "Oh, Sunnydale Andrew?" He laughed. "He's hardly a watcher of anything. There's a delicate situation that called for someone like him so we inducted him but, when he stops being valuable in the near future, we'll ship him out. Maybe give him a token role with a little responsibility but he won't be invited to Watcher's Retreats or meetings."

Wes hated the feeling that coursed through him then: pride, relief, and pettiness. Andrew had been able to manage a rouge slayer but put him up against a real demon and he'd run screaming like a girl. Yes he'd been there for the battle against The First a year ago, and had acquitted himself surprisingly well, but he wasn't exactly tough. Which was why it had really irked Wes to see Andrew in his new role not long ago.

Even Angel had commented on it once Andrew'd left for England. He'd said "If Andrew's the new breed of Watcher then we're all screwed." Wes had smiled and Angel had added "Feel better Wes? Knowing that the council are scraping the bottom of the barrel in trying to recruit new members when the old ones were either dead, in hiding, or working in different areas? Yes, I saw the look on your face. I think somebody needs a hug…let me hug you Wes. I won't tell anyone if you want to have a little cry. Emotions' making a comeback on men lately."

"When you've finished gloating." Scottish man said.

Wes shifted in his seat, his face feeling the hot burn of embarrassment. "Listen, I'm really in the middle of something very, very important, very dangerous-"

"The Drogyn that disappeared from the apartment back there? Since when are they so dangerous?" Scottish man enquired.

"He's not. It's…complicated." Wes replied. He had no intention of going into anything with the stranger. He'd tell him he was snowed under with work and to come back and see him tomorrow. More fool him when tomorrow didn't exist if the Trio weren't quick enough to stop the apocalypse.

"The man that took him didn't give off any aura of a supernatural being. In fact he appeared human from where I was watching. But there was something about him…and your lost demon pal went with him more than willingly. I actually got the impression the two were pals." Scottish man said.

Wes raised an eyebrow. He'd reached a street where he'd normally turn right towards Wolfram and Hart but, instead, he went left. He'd just keep driving until he could ditch his unwanted stowaway passenger and get back to work. "What sort of something about him exactly?" He asked. Curiosity will kill the cat, Wes, he reminded himself, but his curiosity was piqued. As it was about what the man was there to ask Wes to help with.

"I don't know. Do you believe in auras Wesley?" Scottish man inquired.

Wes started to say no, but then instead said "I wouldn't discount them completely. After all most people would think a vampire or demon doesn't exist either and they'd be wrong."

"I can see auras. They tell you a lot about a person. For instance someone who is pure white is angelic soul, pure innocence and love. A blue soul is one filled with sadnesses, probably having done some bad things or seen bad things done in his or her time. Someone who is green is someone who is conflicted, wrestling with a big decision that could be vital. Someone who is pink is someone who is deceiving everyone, even their family and friends, and who is a traitor and knows it but feels no real conscience problems- if they did they'd have a purple tint to their aura."

"Fascinating. What's this got to do with what you saw?" Wes asked. He resisted the urge to ask what colour his aura was- it could be blue, pink, maybe a little bit of green too. With all the emotions running through him it would probably be a murky brown colour.

"Your human friend's was grey. I saw a bit of the black- which meant he's got some evilness inside- but mostly grey. Which means he's not what he seems to be and while his body is putting up a good façade and fooling everyone, it's all a lie." Scottish man said.

Wes wanted to ask him to get moving. He had an Apocalypse to get to after all. He opened his mouth to do so but his visitor got in first.

"We've been receiving some strange information the last few days. From sources, otherworldly or human, as well as changes to texts. Something big is going down." Scottish man told Wes.

Wes was glad he was facing the windscreen rather than the other man- although he did have a good poker face. He'd fleeced Angel and Gunn on many an occasion. "What sort of big? And where is it supposed to happen?" He asked, casually as possible.

"End of the world big." Scottish man said.

Wes forced a laugh. "So it's the end of the world. Again. Frankly you'd think the evil powers would realise all attempts to end the world are futile and get a new mantra."

Scottish man laughed too. "How many for you?"

"Oh all up about ten. I dare say you've seen even more." Wes said.

"Thirty-nine. Forty counting this one." Scottish man said.

"With all due respect if you came to see me every time someone tried to end the world we'd be best buddies by now. Hell if you came to see me every time someone was a genuine threat to the world as we know it too, rather than just a demon or two with powers trying to bring about the end of the world, raise Satan, enslave the human race, threaten us with George Bush Junior…well, you get the picture." Wes said. He was proud of the even tone of his words. When this thing was over and the dust had settled he thought he might take a trip to Vegas and try his luck against gamblers at the casinos.

Scottish man sighed. "So you haven't heard anything about the world ending in the City of Angels?"

Wes pretended to think, and then shook his head. "No. And if there were we'd definitely have heard of it. If not at Angel Investigations then, most certainly, at Wolfram and Hart where, let's face it, there is some seriously dark energy still floating around from the time before Angel signed on the dotted line to get the organisaion."

Scottish man sighed. "Yes I suppose you know about the power beneath your building."

"Power?" Wes repeated.

"Yes. We know that the Indian's considered it to be a sacred site. They had lots of stories about the power and strange things happening in the vicinity. They never went more than about five or six kilometers- or miles I suppose I should say- near it. And their story's date from pretty much as long as anyone had been in the area so the general school of thought is that whatever power was in the area was before the Indian civilization. No wonder Wolfram and Hart decided to build there, tap into the energy likely enough. But I don't need to tell you about that building. I'm sure you can tell me stories…matter of fact that's sort of why I'm here."

'_Finally. I'm getting bloody sick of people appearing suddenly and giving me all sorts of cryptic clues but not many answers.'_ Wes thought. Out loud, however, he said "And?"

"The Council needs you." Scottish man said.

Wes blinked- well at least it was short and sweet. "Sorry, kind of busy right now. But leave your name and number and I'll be sure to get back to you when I can…if I feel inclined which, considering the Council's treatment of us, is rather unlikely I must say."

"Do you know much about battle history, Mr. Wyndham-Price?" Scottish man inquired.

"What I learnt in my O level history. And then what I studied at the council." Wes answered.

"In battles it was customary to send out a few people before the king and his entourage and the army proper. To scout out as much information as possible- get the lay of the land, see how the enemy was positioned and armed, sense any weak spots, and basically then return with the information for those who were in charge of military strategy. Right now I am that forward party. I'm letting you know that the council needs your help and they will get it." Scottish man said. His tone was perfectly friendly, but Wes felt a slight chill go down his spine.

"If I don't come willingly?" Wes asked.

"So long as you come that's not a problem." Scottish man said.

"Funny…I didn't think the Watcher's Council was one of those organizations where once you were in, you were in for life. Like the mafia. People have retired before so why not me?" Wes asked.

"You're making a mountain out of a molehill here Wesley. You're making it sound like we're the enemy." Scottish man said, actually sounding a little hurt.

"If it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck…" Wes said.

"We're not asking for your blood or your life or a sacrifice here. We simply need your help on something." Scottish man said.

"Why me?" Wes asked.

"You're the only one. I'm not at liberty to disclose any details right now." Scottish man said.

"Now you get official." Wes muttered.

"Suffice to say it's vital." Scottish man added.

"Everything always _is_ with the Council." Wes said.

"Maybe but we're the good guys here, Wesley. We don't ask to have these responsibilities; we simply accept them with good grace and discharge our duties honourably. You'll be needed for no more than a week, you'll be financially compensated incredibly generously, and you'll be free to come back to your life here- if that's what you chose to do. And, most importantly, we'll owe you a favour." Scottish man said. He said the last sentence quickly, as though it pained him to say.

And Wes understood the importance of that. And the power. And the advantages. A favour from the Watcher's Council was rarely ever invoked. They must really need him. And Wes knew, without any thought, what he'd ask for in return. Willow Rosenberg. The world's most powerful witch. If he could find a spell for Fred's return to her body he'd likely need power to grant it. And even if it wasn't a spell it might be wise to have someone like her standing by. Which was how he knew, right then, he'd do whatever the Council asked of him. But he deliberately played cool. "I can't guarantee I'll come willingly."

"I wouldn't expect you to and if you did I'd be somewhat disappointed in your Council training." Scottish man said, with a laugh.

"When will this be, exactly? We've got some very important work on and I'm sure you're anxious to get back to your sources in Europe about this end of the world nonsense. Be there in case someone makes a move against the council again-"

"We've taken precautions now. Not ever will anything like The First, like anything, take us…out, as American's like to say. And timing isn't known to me. Maybe in two weeks, maybe in two months. And, until then, I'll say goodbye old chap. You can drop me off just here." Scottish man said.

Wes obliged and pulled to the curb out the front of "Starbucks."

"I'm suddenly in the mood for overpriced, not exactly great quality, oversized novelty coffee." Scottish man said.

"Try the grande." Wes said.

Scottish man didn't reply but he removed his hand, and blade, from Wes's throat where he'd kept a very tight hold the entire drive. Wes thought about retaliation- let the man open his door and get his arthritic body out of the car and then get out himself and slam the man to the ground. But he couldn't. Because today was D-day. So, hating what he considered might be perceived as weakness, Wes let Scottish man alight, then drove off himself.

"Damn it all to hell!" Wes said angrily, thumping his hand hard against the steering wall. What was going on these last few days? Lilah, the prophecy, his signing, Angel's plan, the fight where one way or another people were going to die- be they demons, be they from their side, be they innocent civilians caught up in the mayhem before the Trio stepped in…and now, this. A recall to the Council for some job only he could, supposedly, perform. Was peace and quiet too much to ask for? Well, relative peace and quiet considering his occupation. He made a turn and headed back to Wolfram and Hart.

He wondered whether Illyria had healed completely yet after his tonic. He wondered how Gunn, Spike, Lorne, even Angel were spending the day that could be their last. And how come he hadn't gone to a bar and ordered the most aged, most expensive scotch by the glassful. Or smelt the flowers, or gone sky-diving. But had no real, completely truthful answer. Other than the fact that if things went the way he hoped, by his signing the contract, this wasn't going to be his last day. He prayed he hadn't been just taken for a ride.

The same few words had been running over and over in Wes's mind for almost forty-five minutes:

Angel saying "This may come out a little pretentious but…one of you will betray me." Wes feeling like he'd been stabbed. Spike eagerly putting his hand up like the suck up in the front row at Wes's high school (Wes had been in the last row, but only because they were seated in alphabetical order and as far as "W" went he was the last name on the list; no "X", "Y" and "Z" surnames in his form) to say "Wes." Wes feeling like he couldn't quite catch his breath properly. A further explanation making him manage to breathe and even get out a wry "That's not very flattering." Angel responding that it would get him in the door.

Now he had to play his part, cross his fingers- and his toes- that everyone else played theirs, that the Trio were as good as their word, and that he wouldn't be the only one standing in the alley by the Hyperion later that night.

Wes looked at his watch. Almost time. He had a dinner party to get to. He wondered whether he should have worn black tie. He'd been bought up in a home where dressing was almost as important as brushing one's teeth morning and night. Taking a deep breath he moved forward.

"I'm curious." Slurp of soup. "Mmm. What makes you think I won't kill you where you sit?"

Wesley looked down the length of the table at Cyvus Vail, trying very hard not to look at what he was eating which, if he had to guess, was organs of some poor sod. And blood, it appeared. "Because you're smarter than the others. Smart enough to have your doubts about Angel, and rightly so. He's…unpredictable, and worse, he has a conscience."

Wes didn't have to try too hard to get the words out. He wasn't an actor, although he'd had a small role in his high school's performance of "Macbeth." But he could put enough into this since he still felt uncertain about what was going to happen and his part in it. Namely his betrayal of Angel. No matter how he tried to justify it he knew it would haunt him in the future, and keep him awake many a night too most likely.

"Well you make a very persuasive argument." Vail said, wiping his mouth again. His napkin was white which wasn't a very good colour if he intended to try and wash it after his meal. Maybe he threw them away. Or maybe one poor servant had to wash blood stains out of all sorts of things in this mansion.

"Wait. It gets better." Wesley said. Under the tabletop he opened up his hand, which had been clenched so tightly into a fist it had left little crescent shapes from his nails where they'd pressed against the soft skin of his palm. And in his palm a fireball began to form.

Wes threw Vail's body across the dining room and he hits the wall and slides down, collapsing in a pile on the floor.

"Your influence on this world is over. The rest of the Circle with wither and die…" Wes said as he walked slowly towards him. Another fireball began to form in his palm. "Like you're about to."

Vail looked at him condescendingly which only served to annoy Wes that bit more. "You don't know who you're dealing with, do you, boy?" He said, groaning as he got to his feet.

Before Wes could respond in any way Vail held out his hand and summoned Wes's fireball into his hand, and then extinguished it. "I mean, really. I crap better magic than this. Now let me show you what a real wizard can do."

Wesley bit his lip hard to try to keep himself from crying out in pain, but he can't suppress everything and he groaned quietly. He'd found himself held in the air by Vail's magic. He thought about the blood contract he'd signed- would it count for anything if he died right here, right now, by Vail? He sent a quick prayer to God that even with his demise the Trio would still step in to halt the apocalypse and save the people he loved as well as many innocents.

Vail walked around Wesley, with a smirk on his face. "Did you really think you had a shot at this? I can bend the very fabric of reality to my will. Your parlour tricks will never kill me, boy." He laughed.

'_Boy? What's with the 'boy' all the time?'_ Wes wondered. It made him think of the two men who had called him boy before, repeatedly. The first was his headmaster at boarding school. But then he called all the kids "boy"- it was just the way he said it that had annoyed Wes, a kind of patronizing, disdainful, bitter, pitying tone. Which was why the next person to call him boy had received a bit of a fight. It was during his Watcher's Council training and Wes'd had responded to the taunt during a fighting class with a barrage that had left the other man flat on his back and had earned Wes an "A" in that subject. And now here was Vail calling him "boy" again. That wasn't going to go unpunished.

"Then I'll just…have to do this…the old fashioned way." Wes snapped, taking out his switch-blade, popping up the knife, and lunging towards Vail, trying to stab him.

Vail stopped him. "Yes…I suppose we will." He said. He summoned a large knife from the wall to his hand and then thrust it into Wes's stomach.

Wes gasped as Vail turned the knife. In his line of business he'd suffered injuries before, and indeed injuries that had hurt like hell and had been very serious, but for some reason this knife wound hurt more than he'd felt. It was as if his stomach was on fire, the pain radiating up and down his body. But Wes still managed to conjure another fireball in his palm. This time he put everything he had into it- all his strength, knowing it could be his last stand, as well as using everything that was flashing through his mind (his mother, graduating the Watcher's Council, his first charge's Buffy and Faith, Fred, Fred and him, his colleagues and friends at Angel Investigations and the contract he'd signed) to make it bigger, hotter and more lethal than his other efforts. It exploded, the force of it sending Vail across the room into a wall- ironically almost directly opposite where Wes had been thrown against earlier- and knocking him out. His unconsciousness meant that Wes was released from his grip, suddenly, and he was dropped from the air, managing to land a little unsteadily on his feet.

For a few moments he felt triumphant: who's the boy now? But then the pain in his stomach, in fact most of his torso, overtook anything else. This was bad. Very bad. He felt his legs give way beneath him, and he was covered in sweat and beginning to shake from the shock of the injury. But, amazingly, just as he was about to collapse, something saved him. Illyria rushed into the room and caught him in her arms before kneeling beside him on the floor. Wes thought it was a great move and wondered whether he could teach her to play baseball. In the scenario running through his mind though he was surprised to note that Illyria wasn't as Fred, she was the same blue menace she was now. But he didn't have the energy to keep thinking that. He thought, instead, about the contract and wondered how the others were going with their missions now?

"Wesley. This wound is mortal." Illyria said.

Wes touched the wound and was rewarded with a stab of pain. "Aren't we all? It was good…that you came." He said, with a small smile.

Illyria played it down. "I killed all mine, and I was…" She appeared to be searching for the right word.

"Concerned?" Wes suggested.

"I think so. But I can't help. You'll be dead within moments." Illyria said. She didn't mince her words but then she never had so Wes found that oddly comforting right now. "Would you like me to lie to you now?"

"Yes." Wes said. He blinked, painfully. Damn it Lilah- where were the Trio when they were needed? If she didn't come through with her promise he was going to hunt her down in the afterlife and make her pay. When he managed to open his eyes he saw Fred's face, looking down at him, stroking his cheek tenderly.

"Oh, Wesley. My Wesley." Fred said, trying to smile through her tears.

"Fred. I've missed you." Wes whispered weakly.

Fred kissed his lips gently, twice, sniffed, and kissed his forehead. "It's gonna be okay. It won't hurt much longer and then you'll be where I am. We'll be together."

Wes wet his lips and croaked out, "I…I love you." He felt the moment he gave up on the Trio's stepping in in time to save him, but he hoped they still saved everyone else.

"I love you. My love. Oh, my love." Fred smiled through her tears.

Wes felt the moment his life force left. But, strangely, he still saw things.

He saw Fred lay him down, gently placing his head on the floor, and manage to clear the tears from her eyes, and stand. He saw Vail conscious, on his feet, standing behind Fred. He tried to cry out, to warn her, but he couldn't. He saw Vail approach Fred. And say "How very touching his meaningless death was, but this fight was never for mortals." He saw Illyria, as Fred still, turn to face the demon who taunted her to take her best shot, little girl. And he saw her swing a powerful punch at Vail's head, transforming from Fred to blue menace Illyria in mid-swing, as Vail's head shattered with the force of her swing. He wanted to say that's my girl, but still couldn't speak.

And then, suddenly, he was somewhere else. There was lots of bright, white light, and there were lots of voices. He tried to sit up and look around but was too sore. "You're in twilight, Wes." A man's voice said. It was familiar but in his painful and weakened state Wes couldn't identify it.

"He's here." The man said.

"The other one's already been and gone. He's passed. It was too late." This time from a woman.

"So it be. So it was always meant to be." The man said. He peered closer at Wes. "I'm sorry, but this is going to hurt. It's the only way I'm afraid."

Wes blinked at him in acknowledgment.

And then there was the pain- if he'd thought he was sore before he was kidding himself. It was agony and he couldn't help it; he threw his head back and screamed. Over and over.

He heard the woman's voice again. "And another. But he's meant to pass as well."

Wes was still screaming. And then, suddenly, the pain was completely gone. He reached out to tentatively touch his wound. And there was none. There was no blood soaked top, no sharp pains, no feel of a wound at all.

"He's needed back down there now." The woman said.

And then, again just as suddenly, he was somewhere else again. But, like before, he couldn't move, or speak, just watch. He was in the lobby of Wolfram and Hart. Hamilton was dead; Angel and Connor were standing there. And then the building began to rumble and move. It was a bit like an earthquake only it lasted a lot longer than any quake would. Some of the building began to collapse and some of the debris fell on top of Angel. Angel and Connor argue before Connor leaves. And comes back with Eve. She wants to know about Lindsay and Angel tells her, without actually speaking the words, that he's gone. Eve seemed to collapse in upon herself.

And then Wes was somewhere else: the alley behind the Hyperion.

He looked anxiously to see who was there too. Angel was there. And then Spike stepped out of the shadows. A few moments later Gunn arrived. But he didn't look good. He was pale and sweating and Wes saw that he was bleeding. He tried to move forward, to tell them he was there, to help, but he was stuck in the one place. Damn this stupid contract if he couldn't help the people he cared about. Wasn't that the point of the bloody thing?

Then Illyria arrived too. And she told them Wes was dead.

"I'm not dead! I'm right here!" Wes yelled. The words actually came out but nobody seemed to hear them.

Watching his friend's reactions to his "death" was a strange feeling. Wes imagined it was a bit like being able to attend your own funeral and see how it went, who came, and what they said. Angel looked heartbroken, Gunn cried, and Spike hung his head.

'_Huh. They _do_ care.'_ Wes thought. It was about then that he realised what was happening in the world around them. It was thundering loudly, raining heavily, and there were sounds that sent shivers down Wes's spine. They were sounds of glee, and the retaliating sounds of utter terror from people seeing things they'd never believed existed. There's a crowd approaching them, backing them against a chain link fence, keeping them in position. And the crowd is big- bigger than when England won the soccer world cup, bigger than when The Beatles packed out Wembley Stadium. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of demons of all sorts, shapes, colours, sizes and genders. And, above them, a huge winged dragon flies angrily overhead.

"Okay. You take the 30,000 on the left…" Gunn said, very weakly.

Illyria looked at him. "You're fading. You'll last ten minutes at best." She warned.

Gunn stood up, not without difficulty. "Then let's make 'em memorable." He said.

Angel stepped forward. Spike, Gunn and Illyria followed. Spike was on Angel's right side. Angel was flanked a step behind by Gunn on the right, and Illyria on the left. They stare at the horde of demons approaching them in the alley.

Wes tried again, desperately, vainly, to move. He had to help his friends. He had to fight with them. It's not fair. Is he meant to just stand here and watch his friends get killed? Was his contract for nothing? Because if his friends die it may as well have been.

Spike said, flippantly almost, "In terms of a plan?"

Angel answered matter-of-factly. "We fight."

"Bit more specific." Spike instructed.

Angel stepped forward, hefting the sword in his hands. "Well, personally, I kind of want to slay the demon." He said. As the demon horde closed in to attack he added "Let's go to work", swinging his sword in a manner that suggested he'd had plenty of practice.

Again Wes tried to move, to fight with his friends, but it was all to no avail.

The air was heavy and dark, the demons were crowing, people were screaming from other places nearby, and the ground began to shake again. This time was even stronger than the last time. And concerted. It continued, wave after wave, for about a minute, throwing everyone off balance- demon and demon-fighter alike. Buildings in the alley began to show signs of cracks, and things began to fall from them- bits of their outside.

Then it stopped and the demons kept coming. Wes tried to move as his friends stepped forward to face the horde and fight.

And then, again, everything changed, and Wes was somewhere else. He was beginning to get dizzy from this.

He didn't know _how_ he knew, but he knew the apocalypse was over.

He was back in the lobby of Wolfram and Hart. And everything was as it had been before the scene he'd witnessed earlier where the senior partners had begun to throw down their weight. The lobby was intact, people were going about their business as if it were just another work day, and the world was bright and happy and Wes knew that it was as if the apocalypse had not even existed in the first place.

And now he could move. He turned around. And came face to face with a couple of his friends, all with puzzled looks on their faces.

Illyria was there, but she was unable to stand and, from the state of her clothes and person, as well as the blood seeming to seep from every pore, she was not well. Wes was worried…not just because he might not be able to bring Fred back if Illyria died, but for her as well.

And Angel was there. He looked decidedly rumpled and a little bit worse for wear but his body was already healing from any wounds he'd sustained in the fight. He was looking at Wes with shock. "What on hell…?" He managed.

Wes shrugged. And saw that Lorne was standing there too. It was hard for a green demon to look pale or green but Lorne managed it. He kept looking at his hands with distaste, and began to absently rub at them, in a washing manner. He kept doing it until Wes stepped over to him and took the two hands in his own. "Out damned spot." Wes said.

Lorne took a deep breath, then nodded, and when Wes released his hands he clasped them together over his chest, calm to some degree.

"They call _this_ an _apocalypse_?" Angel demanded.

Wes knew that the senior partners didn't think that, and that it was only the Trio's contract with him that stopped everyone from dying and innocent civilians being killed across the globe as the demons took over and life was forever altered. For the worst.

Angel's puzzled and concerned eyes met Wes's and the two shared a moment of confusion before Angel took a deep breath. "Lorne, Wes, help me get Illyria upstairs to my office. We need to treat her."

As Wes and Lorne obeyed and they got into the elevator and began to ascend Angel voiced what they were no doubt all thinking. "Where are Spike, Gunn and Lindsey? What about Harmony, Hamilton, Eve? What about Conner?" Angel asked.

Nobody answered for a long moment.

Then Lorne spoke, quietly, and said "Lindsey's dead. And once we get sorted here I am off to New York. I couldn't live with myself for what I did if I was a human, but as an empath…it's almost unbearable."

"You sure he's dead?" Angel asked.

Lorne glared at him, with distaste and maybe even a bit of hate, in his eyes. "Yes." He snapped, shortly.

**TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER TWO.**


	5. 2: When the dust clears

**Chapter II: When the dust clears.**

**A**ngel found Wesley standing at the large window in the latter's office. Wes had thought he might never again do this, for a terrible time when he was so close to death. He had thought about never again having a perfectly aged Scotch, with just the right amount of ice, never again helping someone, never again loving, never again having his heart broken, never again seeing the people he loved- his friends and family in this little piece of the world-, never getting the chance to do the things he'd had on his bucket list (climbing Everest, writing a novel or screenplay, becoming a husband and becoming a father, getting a tattoo, travelling to every continent in the world)…oh, the list was endless and he'd need at _least_ two eternity's to tick everything off.

Wes sensed Angel come into the office but he didn't speak. He wasn't quite sure how long it had been since he'd left Angel, Lorne and Illyria in Angel's office. He knew that Angel was disappointed Wes hadn't stayed, and if Illyria had been cognicent enough she would have felt the same- although she wouldn't necessarily have known what the emotion was or why she was feeling it. The sun had begun it's descent into the sky and L.A was lit with the most amazing sunset Wes had ever experienced. He thought about how normally a sunset like that would foretell doom and he wondered whether anyone had seen four horsemen riding through the streets of L.A.

"How is she?" Wes asked.

Angel knew what his friend meant. "She seems stable. I had to call in a long overdue favour to get a Sharman healer into see her and he performed some crazy arse ceremony and made her drink about two litres of some foul smelling liquid mix and now she's sleeping. She seems peaceful."

"Good. Thank God." Wes breathed out. Now he only had about half a dozen worlds weighing his shoulders down.

"What the hell happened Wesley?" Angel asked. For a second Wes thought he meant "what did you do Wesley?" but then realised the vampire with a soul's question was more general.

Wes didn't turn around. "I don't know."

"I can't believe that the Circle would consider that" Angel waved a hand in the vague direction of the city outside the window "an apocalypse. God I've had many parties that were a lot wilder than that over the course of my existence. And there was this one time, at band camp…or no, that might have been a movie."

Wes didn't speak.

"We need to find out. We need to know where we stand: did we destroy the Circle? Or did we fail? Are they still in existence? Are there going to be further reprisals and this is just the calm before the storm? Do we get to just keep on fighting the good fight like nothing happened? Are we in some parallel universe? Have we been tricked by demons? Are we dead? Most importantly we need to know about our friends…did any of them make it?" Angel's voice cracked slightly.

Wes still didn't turn around. He didn't think Angel was after a hug somehow. "I just don't know." He repeated.

"Damn it Wesley! You're the one with all the answers. Usually. You've got to find some. I just need to know. Everything." Angel demanded.

'_This is one time, mate, where you really don't want to know everything.'_ Wes thought. But what he said was, "I'm going to find those answers. I just need to take a moment. Or an hour. I need some fresh air but then I'll come right back here and I won't leave my desk until I get the answers you- _we_- need."

Angel sighed heavily. "I suppose that's a reasonable request. We thought we were going to die today and we didn't. The last few days have had us all stretched to breaking point. Matter of fact I think I've hardly even seen you this last week or so. So you take your hour, take time to smell the roses if that floats your boat, and then we'll work it out. We always work it out. Just hopefully in time."

Wes finally turned around, but his eyes didn't quite meet Angel's. Guilty conscious, he told himself disgustedly. "I'll be back."

"Okay. But be careful Wes, we don't know what the hell's happening out there. Anything gives you goosebumps or raises your suspicions get back here right away. I don't know how many friends- no, _family members_- I lost today and I don't want you to be one." Angel said.

Wes nodded.

"You know what really peeves me off Wesley?" Angel asked when Wes had almost reached the door of the office.

He turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't even get to fight." Angel said.

"I would imagine that would be a _good_ thing." Wes suggested.

"I felt like fighting- I was ready to kill some demons. I was so sick of being a pawn in everyone else's games, I'm sick of feeling like everyone else has read the rules of the game but not me…I thought if I was going down I'd go fighting and I'd drag as many of the bastards down with me as I could." Angel explained.

"I get that." Wes said. And he did. "But I also get that, for whatever reason, we made it out the other side and we get to keep on doing what we do. The resources of Wolfram and Hart-"

"I'm not entirely sure I'm going to keep doing this Wes. I'm getting too old for this. I should have quit on my 100th birthday. I'm wondering if maybe, when this is all settled and we know where we stand, I'm out…" Angel mused.

Wes felt a stab of fear and he spoke quickly, his words tumbling over one another. "You can't just stop. You've got a mission Angel. I know you've seen so many horrible things, hell you did some of them yourself, but think about how many innocent people we've saved, how many of them would be dead were we not here. And okay if you left I'd still fight, hopefully the others would still fight, but it wouldn't be the same. You know things. And you fight better than any of us. Being practically immortal means you can keep on going when we stop. Without you things would be worse and you'd probably be consigning innocent people to their deaths."

"Aww, I'm touched by your love Wes, I really am. Is this where we tell each other how we can't live without each other and confess our hidden love?" Angel asked.

"Just promise me that when we've found our friends and worked out what happened then you'll at least take time to think about any rash decision." Wes asked. And, he added silently to himself, 'let me find a way to keep you here, to keep the team together.'

Angel nodded his agreement. "I did get a couple of war wounds at least."

Wes left the building almost at a run to avoid staying in close proximity to his boss. Why had Angel called him family and made him feel like a right utter shit for what he'd done? He knew he was going to have to stop these feelings of guilt or else being around the people he loved was going to be far too hard. Besides had he _not_ made the deal this city would probably be crumbled in ruins by now. The feelings were something he was just going to have to live with and learn to deal with so he could keep doing what he did: saving innocent people from their worst nightmares. He had many, many questions he wanted answers to, but primarily how was the prophecy going to come true and who'd lived to fight another day when the dust settled.

Wes started to walk briskly and, after about thirty minutes, he finally slowed and looked around him. He wasn't quite sure where he was. A pair of teenage girls got into their car- a hot vintage Mustang- and they looked at him and giggled. Probably not used to seeing anyone actually using their legs to get around in L.A, he guessed.

What struck him most as he looked around was the normalcy of the scene. It was a mid-week night in L.A and it was like any other night. There were no signs of demons, nor any signs that demons, the Circle or senior partners had done anything to anyone. The sky was dark and no mythical looking demonic creatures flew from cracks in the sky leading to other dimensions. And finally he let out a huge breath and felt his entire body begin to shake. Really shake, not just shivering. His legs gave out beneath him and he crawled to a nearby bus stop and pulled himself onto the seat. He had to clasp his hands together to stop them from trembling so violently and he felt involuntary tears spring into his eyes. He took deep breath after deep breath, having trouble getting enough oxygen into his lungs. Was it truly real? Had they actually not only survived but defeated the enemy they had believed so unbeatable?

He felt a bit better and could have begun his treck back towards Wolfram and Hart but he hesitated. "Maybe I shouldn't go back there. Maybe I should just help them work out what happened and find out about everyone else and then just walk away. Plenty of demons in other locations to fight." He said out loud, ignoring the look on a family of four passing by that clearly thought he belonged in a straight jacket.

"NO! No Wes. That won't do! You have to stay. It's your destiny to keep doing what you do." A voice said.

Wes jumped and then winced- it was so loud! His head swiveled in a circle, looking for the speaker, but nobody was near him. So he looked further, peering into shops- closed and open-, at people walking by, everywhere. And saw nobody who could have been talking. God maybe he really was cracked? Imagining voices.

"Oh come _ON_. You _know_ I'm not imaginary." The voice argued. It was a woman's voice but Wes was almost certain he'd never heard it before, so it wasn't the voice of someone he knew or had met.

Wesley looked around him again but people were oblivious. How had they _not_ heard the voice? God knew it was loud enough.

"They can't see me or hear me. Only you can." The voice explained.

"Except I can't see you." Wes answered, but as a whisper so he'd not get the attention of people walking by.

"That's because you're not meant to, because I don't want you to yet." The voice responded.

"What do you want?" Wes asked wearily.

"I'm just letting you know that your thoughts a few minutes ago about not going back to Wolfram and Hart, to your friends and your mission, is a really, really bad idea. You're destined to be there." The voice said.

"Thing about destiny is it's getting on my nerves a little bit. Whatever happened to free will and one not having their actions predetermined by prophecies?" Wes demanded.

"Choices are overated. They're _so_ last season. Fate is the new black." The voice replied.

"Cordy?" Wes asked, even though the voice wasn't hers.

"You were saved for a reason Wesley." The voice said, ignoring his question.

"Or because I betrayed my friends? Again." Wes disagreed.

"You know that you did the right thing. If you hadn't signed that contract the prophecy wouldn't have come true and this lovely night wouldn't be enjoyed by a single person since they'd all be dead or prisoners of bloodthirsty, vicious demons." The voice argued.

Wes sighed and didn't reply.

"There is a purpose for you on this earth Wesley Wyndham-Price." The voice told him.

"What?" Wes inquired.

"You can't know yet. You'll know when the time comes." The voice answered.

"Oh enough with the bloody cryptic already!" Wes snapped, his patience evaporated. "I'm beginning to feel a bit like everyone's bitch now. The Council are going to come calling but I don't know why. You're telling me I've got some higher purpose but won't tell me anything about it. Angel wants me to find out what happened so I've got to come up with a plausible reason for what I did- as well as find out more about the Trio- and work out what happened to people I care very deeply for."

"The Watcher's Council reached out to you?" The voice was patently surprised.

Wes could have kicked himself. He really needed to learn to keep things back and play his cards a bit closer to his chest or else he'd be telling the wrong people the wrong thing.

"I assumed he was from the Council because of his accent. But it's probably more likely that it's something else entirely." Wes lied.

"Now you need to get back to the office. You need to do some research on the senior partners and the Circle and find an explanation as to why the apocalypse never really got off the ground because, unless you do, Angel is going to search high and low for the answers and you never know what he might find and how it might lead to you. You need to find your friends and colleagues and then get on with what you were put on this earth to do- save people from demons, vampires, evil witches and warlocks, and all the assorted supernatural flotsam and jetsam." The voice instructed.

Wes wasn't sure how he knew but he knew the voice was gone. Before he'd been able to press for a name either.

"Do you remember what happened to you? Did you defeat Vail? Did you start to make your way to the alley but be waylaid? Did you see or hear of the others who aren't here yet?" Angel asked about an hour later. He fired each question at Wes in a stattaco burst of queries.

They were up in Angel's apartment. With the state of play currently unknown Angel had decided they were safer up in the penthouse. Illyria had been moved up there too and was tucked up in a bed, still sleeping.

Wes was drinking an Irish coffee, Angel was drinking blood he'd zapped in the microwave.

"Has Lorne left?" Wes asked.

"Yes, straight away. I feel pretty bad about what I asked him to do. I knew that, for him, it was something he'd feel far more strongly than any of us. But I still asked him to do it." Angel rubbed a hand across his face tiredly.

"Back to your questions. Vail's dead. It was Fred- erm, Illyria. She saved me. He was stronger than I expected and if she hadn't arrived so quickly it would have been too late for me. She'd done her job easily and she was worried about me. I think there's still Fred inside that blue exterior. I think there might be a way to bring Fred back-"

"Wes, don't get me wrong, I loved Fred too. Not like you or Gunn did but I cared about her too. Nothing would please me more than to have her back. But right now that can't be a priority. Until we know what's going on here it just can't be. But when we've sorted everything out I'll do whatever you need to help you try to get Fred back." Angel interrupted.

Wes decided not to tell Angel he'd been in the alley. Well at least in spirit. He needed to know a bit more about that aspect of the fight before divulging any information about it to anyone. "I didn't manage to do so. I was hurt pretty bad-"

"You don't look like you were." Angel interrupted. Mind you the signs of his own battles were already beginning to disappear into the ether too.

"That's the thing. The wounds, the pain, it disappeared. It was like my body just healed myself completely. And I have no idea why or how." Wes replied. He thought about the place he'd found himself in and about what the mysterious woman had said about people he knew arriving there too.

Angel gaped. "Are you serious?" He demanded.

"Deadly." Wes answered. "I was dying Angel. Illyria saved me from Vail, but she couldn't stop what had happened before she got there. I know how crazy it sounds but I was almost gone. My life flashed through my eyes and then I was in this place…a bright place with people bustling around. I don't think I could see, or couldn't make out, any people but there were quite a few there and I heard a woman and a man speak. I think the man was talking to me but I can't remember what he said. They saved me and sent me back down here. Where I found myself ending up down in the lobby here. There were other people there in my situation Angel. The memory is fuzzy and it's dissipiatating with every passing minute so in a few hours I probably won't remember any of it. Which is why I need to tell you everything I remember before it's gone. And I'm fairly certain that there were other people passing through too. I feel like one or both could have been someone I knew but whether they survived like me or passed, I'm unclear. But no matter how hard I concentrate I can't recall what I desperately want to. And I remember the pain…"

Wes shuddered at the memory and was silent for a few moments. Then he said, "It was _agony_. I'll never again feel such a pain. God I'll never forget that pain." Then he laughed, a tad bitterly. "Or I will, in a few hours."

Angel's face was perfectly composed, totally blank, as he listened.

'_Remind me not to play poker with him.'_ Wes instructed his brain.

"Anything else you can recall Wes? Think hard." Angel urged.

Wes took a big sip of his drink, the alcohol in it warming his insides. He closed his eyes and tried to force his brain to return to the place. What had the man called it? Dawn? Dusk? Something like that. He opened his eyes again. "The man's voice was familiar but even then I couldn't place it."

"Other voices then? You mentioned a woman." Angel asked.

"Erm…I don't think she was really dealing with me. I think she had someone else on her hands." Wes answered slowly.

"Any other voices in the background?" Angel inquired

"I think there might have been some murmuring which suggests there were at least two other people there." Wesley responded.

"Any names jump out at you?" Angel asked.

"I don't think so, no." Wes replied.

"Any other sounds? In the background maybe?" Angel questioned.

"Erm…I really can't remember." Wes told him. His knuckles were white because of the hard grip he had on his almost-empty glass.

"What about smells?" Angel asked.

Wes shook his head. "I can't remember."

"Smells?" Angel queried.

Wes shook his head, frustrated. "Damn it! I just can't quite grasp anything!" He slammed his glass onto the table with a little too much force and the glass cracked, letting out the end of the liquid onto the table top. "Damn it!"

"It's all right Wes. Just leave it. It's fine." Angel instructed as Wes cast his eyes around looking for a rag or a tissue.

"I'm sorry." Wes said.

"It's fine. I've got plenty more glasses around." Angel assured his friend.

Wes nodded and then sank back into the comfortable leather of the couch he was sitting on and rubbed his head tiredly. "What about you Angel? How did you go with your…tasks?"

Angel was silent for a very long moment and Wes was beginning to think he wasn't going to answer the question. "I completed them. Hamilton actually impressed me. I knew he'd be strong but I think he's been working out at the gym a lot. Although I can't really see him sweating it out at the gym in sweats. I bet he wears suits to work out. And then Connor turned up. He really came through Wes. I'm so proud of the kid I helped create."

Wes didn't tell him he'd seen- via spirit- the fight between Hamilton and Angel and how Connor had turned up and probably swayed things to the side of the good.

"I think we need to get access from the room up there. Although we might not be able to get in there anymore and there might not be anyone there to help." Angel suggested.

That reminded Wes of the one major perk in his contract- a secret library with resources so classified and so extensive that hardly anyone even knew it existed. How was he meant to find the entrance to the room anyway?

All of a sudden Angel made a strangled noise of pain and clutched at his head. Wes jumped from his spot and quickly moved the few feet separating him and the vampire, squatting down next to Angel. "Angel? What's wrong? Are you more badly injured than you thought you were?" He demanded anxiously.

"No. Not that." Angel managed.

"Then what…?" Wes demanded.

"I don't…Oh! You're here!" Angel said, his voice sounding excited and relieved despite the obvious pain he was suffering from.

"Who? Me?" Wes asked confused. He looked around the penthouse. He saw nobody else.

"You look okay. So you weren't hurt." Angel said.

Wes had given up his frenzied questions and simply stayed where he was, watching Angel's face. Angel's eyes were closed and his face had scrunched up in so much pain that his vampire face had returned.

"Oh no. No. Tell me that's not true. Tell me you're still here." Angel pleaded.

A moment later he said, "Did you get rid of her at least?"

Another moment passed. "You did us proud. You did yourself proud. But I always knew you could do it." Angel said.

Another moment later he said, "And I with you. I will not forget this or what you did. Go into that beautiful paradise just behind you. And be free. Oh. It looks like someone's waiting for you there. Go, be with her."

And, just like that, Angel's face relaxed. He opened his eyes, his vampire mask slipped off, and he lowered his hands. "Geez." He exhaled loudly, sounding a little out of breath and tired.

"What the hell happened there Angel?" Wes demanded. "I was really worried. I thought you were in big trouble."

"Gunn's dead." Angel answered, simply.

"Oh." Wes said quietly. He stood up and went towards the bar area where he made himself a double Scotch, and then regained his seat.

"Are we going to lose the others too?" Angel asked. But it was a rhetorical question so Wes didn't venture an answer.

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes, maybe approximately five.

"So he died in the fight then?" Wes asked.

"I guess so. He was injured before hand. A lesser man wouldn't have made it to the Hyperion with those sorts of injuries but then Gunn was no ordinary man.

"Amen to that." Wes muttered. He and Gunn had had their moments, quite a few of them in fact, but he always respected Gunn's survival instinct and the way he fought with one hundred and ten percent every single time, no matter the circumstances, his feelings towards the fight, or any personal issues. And Gunn was a good guy, completely loyal.

"How do you know that Angel?" Wes asked. This was the most pressing issue.

Angel shook his head. "I had a vision."

Wes blinked. "You had a vision?" He demanded. Something fought for attention in the back of his mind, but it couldn't compete with the other thoughts that were currently front and centre. Wes had never lived a 24 hour period where so much had happened in his life.

"Yep. I've got a new admiration for Doyle and Cordelia." Angel said.

Wes took a small sip of his drink. "What was in the vision?"

"Gunn was standing in front of this bright light at first and then in front of a garden, really gorgeous, kind of tropical, a bit like paradise might be if it actually exists. He looked good. Like he was alive. But after a moment he began to sort of shimmer or flicker and then, just a few seconds before he left, he turned translucent. And he said…he said that there were still many miles to walk before this is over." Angel explained.

Wes frowned slightly. "I don't get it. How the hell did you get a vision?" He demanded.

Angel looked a little affronted but he stilled his expression quickly. "I've had one before. Cordellia came back and she kissed me and I had a vision. Its how I knew about all this…"

Wes swore under his breath.

"Jealous Wesley?" Angel asked. "Because let me tell you you're welcome to any future visions."

"_Future visions_. So you expect more?" Wes demanded.

Angel raised an eyebrow. "All right, spill. What's the deal?" He questioned.

Wes skulled his scotch, his eyes watering slightly as it burnt a trajectory down his throat and into his stomach. "I need to do some research. I better get back down to my office." He said, as he stood. He was desperate for a moment alone so he could think this through.

Angel nodded. "I'm going out somewhere. I need to see my son. For all he knows I'm dead." He informed his friend.

A few minutes later Wes shut the door of his office gratefully and leant against it. He flipped the light switch on as it was now fully dark. He guessed it was probably about ten at night but his watch had fallen off somewhere along the line, possibly in the fight with Vail. There was so much to do.

He crossed to his desk and picked up the nearest pen and paper and wrote, "1) prophecy, 2) explanation for today, 3) library, 4) Fred, 5) Scottish man/Council, 6) new voice, 7) whereabouts of friends and foes now."

Then he fell into his chair and sighed tiredly. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the red light was blinking on his office phone and the number "3" was on the screen. He pressed the button once and the dulcet tones of Lorne filled the large space.

"Hey Wesley. I'm sorry I couldn't do this in person but I just had to get the heck out of dodge. I'm about to board my flight to New York but before I leave I wanted to say goodbye. You're probably thinking I'm a pathetic excuse for a demon- the sight of blood's always made me feel squeamish and I'd much rather murder a Sinatra number than another person- human or otherwise. I should probably have told Angel all this but…for some reason I just couldn't speak to him. Before Lindsay died I read him. He didn't know although later, just before…it, he offered to sing for me. Maybe he hummed a tune after we did what we did, before I…did you-know-what, I'm not quite sure. But I learnt some interesting things. One was that Lindsay actually felt like he was finally atoning for all the shitty things he did in his life and like maybe he now had a purpose, helping fight the good fight. Two was a strange one, but you're the booky one, you'll figure it out, that there was a prophecy in play again. He didn't know what it contained but he kept thinking over and over the number three. It was written in bright red all over his body and clothes. Somewhere along the line Lindsay had learnt of this prophecy but not what it contained, just its very existence. And three was a little weird- he kept seeing an image of Cordellia. She was dressed up like those little dolls you put at the top of your Christmas tree instead of the star so I read her as an angel. But it was like she was trying to get to some place, trying with all her little heart, but that it was futile. And so instead she just kept blowing kisses. Over and over and over. I suppose that's just like Cordy to show love to everyone…anyway Wesley my flight is being called so I must go. I'm throwing this cell phone in the bin so you won't have any way of contacting me. And, at least for the foreseeable future, that's the way I need it to be. I just keep remembering Lindsay's face when I shot him. He said I couldn't do it, that it had to be Angel, he looked like I'd betrayed him- and perhaps I had- and just seeing the way he fell to the ground and went slack…God forgive me. I couldn't even offer him comfort or hold his hand and make up some lie about how he was going to a better place. I got the hell out of there straight away. I couldn't bear to watch the light go out of his eyes…So my English baby cakes that's it. I'm out. Done…Good luck and Godspeed."

Wesley reached out and replayed the message again. So Lindsay had heard about a prophecy containing the number three. It was probable that it wasn't so much the numeral as the symbol but the word trio. It was a pity Lindsay was dead and wouldn't be able to shed any light on where he'd heard the prophecy from.

And then there was the message about Cordellia. If he hadn't seen her so recently, up in paradise, he'd have felt sick at the idea of Cordy being stuck somewhere, trying so desperately to get somewhere else. But, as it was, he knew that she wasn't in any kind of hell dimension. He thought she was actually kind of lucky because she'd found true nirvana. That beautiful garden paradise was hardly the worst kind of place to spend eternity. Not like Lilah. Wes was annoyed at his thinking about Lilah Morgan now when she was one of the least of his worries. He could do nothing to help her, to bring her back from the hell she now inhabited and she'd forgiven him. She'd said as much and Lilah wouldn't say something like that if it weren't true.

All of a sudden Wesley felt cold as the thought that had been niggling in the back of his mind while Angel told him about the vision he'd had of Gunn and how Cordy had given him the vision that had lead them to this point right now, post apocalypse.

"Cordellia came back and she kissed me and I had a vision" was what Angel had said.

And the Cordy in Lorne's reading of Lindsay had continually blown kisses, over and over.

Wes reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key. He used it to unlock a small drawer under the top of his desk, above the other normal sized ones. He pulled the drawer out and exposed a key-pad where he typed a five figure number quickly. It made a sound a bit like on a television program set in prison where a cell is buzzed open. Wes stood up and walked over towards the window, but before he reached it he dropped onto one knee beside an oriental rug. He pulled the rug aside to show the metal door of a safe. He pressed his index finger to a biometric keypad and there was another buzzing sound as the door popped open. It wasn't an overly large space and it was filled primarily with papers and a couple of text books. Wes reached in and flicked through the first stack of papers until he found what he needed. He shut the door and replaced the rug and went back to his desk.

He unfolded the paper to look at the prophecy, complete with his signature in blood. Lilah had left him a copy. Of course it was hardly surprising that he knew the wording by heart- he'd studied it day in, day out for a few days before putting pen to paper and signing it. Maybe he'd just _assumed_ he knew what it meant exactly- with Lilah's help.

The prophecy had specifically said that the Trio would stop the apocalypse to save two people. It had said the one with the visions; Cordy Wes had assumed, since Doyle was definitely dead and Cordy wasn't necessarily dead so much as being in a higher place as a higher power. And the champion, the human with a pure soul; himself Wes had assumed considering he'd been written into the prophecy a long, long time ago and would, by signing, save the world.

But maybe Wes was wrong.

He was still the champion, by virtue of the fact that he'd survived and the only other member of the team that could fit the human criterion, Gunn, had not. Angel and Spike were vampires, Illyria was a demon (at least currently, hopefully soon she would be Fred again) and Lorne was an empath demon.

But now, Wes realised with his mouth drought-dry, it was possible that Cordy wasn't the one with the visions mentioned in the prophecy. It was possible- very possible- that Angel was. He'd had two visions thus far, the first of which was passed from Cordy via a kiss just as Doyle had passed his gift (or curse as Cordy was wont to look at it as) to her. And Angel was alive and kicking and, not at least up to a few hours after the apocalypse, Cordellia was not.

The prophecy had been ambiguous on whether others would be saved but Wes tended to read it as suggesting that others could also survive were they able to fight, to hang on long enough for the Trio to step in.

The blinking light reminded him he had two more phone messages. He wondered whether he'd receive a voicemail or an email from the Trio saying welcome to our super-secret club, here is your key to the library hidden from everyone else. And a location to enter this uber-library might be helpful too.

The second message surprised him. He recognised the breathy, girly voice and the clueless brain behind it immediately but why the message had been left for him was a mystery. "Wesley? L.A's still here. So whatever it is you all did you must have, like, …circumcised the apocalypse. Could you maybe just do me this itty-bitty favour and maybe, like, convince Angel to re-hire me? I mean you're going to need a receptionist again aren't you? And, okay, I might have just, a teensy-weensy bit, like, betrayed him but I'm soooo totally sorry. I can't help it cos I'm blonde and all…And Hamilton was just such a good kisser. He reminded me of my little Spikey-wikey in the early days of our relationship when we were, like,… in-operable. Before he was all, like, must kill Buffy every day and night. So when you get Angel to, um…un-terminate my contract, that would be wickedly cool of you." Harmony's voice came from the speaker of the phone.

Wes frowned. He'd missed exactly what had happened between Harmony and Angel, Harmony and Hamilton, and Hamilton and Angel. He wouldn't have expected Harmony to betray them, but mind you she was no Einstein and he thought it more likely that she'd have accidentally spilled details to Hamilton in the relaxed state of post-sex. However Harmony didn't have a soul so betraying them wasn't too big a stretch of the imagination.

Wes pressed the button for the last message. "Oh hi. It's me again. Harmony Kendall. You know- the _old_ and currently unemployed receptionist? I realised I didn't, like, leave you my cell phone number when I rang before. But…oh gosh I'm silly. It'll be on your caller I.D. And maybe my… personality form. My bad…um, so nobody's rang me back yet to tell me to come into work tomorrow. Maybe I should just come in anyway? But if Angel is still mad at me I'll look really silly. So it would probably be better if you or Angel ring me back soon and let me know when to come in to work. Thanks. Bye."

Wes shook his head.

The door to his office opened and, as Illyria came in, she belatedly knocked a bit too enthusiastically on the wood. "May I enter?"

"You already have." Wes replied dryly.

"I don't quite get the concept of knocking on the door, waiting awhile for someone to say enter and then going in. It seems a waste of effort." Illyria said.

"It doesn't matter." Wes said.

"But clearly I see it does. Gunn got most annoyed at me the other day for just going into his personal space." Illyria looked confused but then she shook her head fractionally and Wes almost saw the shift in her brain patterns. "I have seen Spike."

Wes exhaled with relief. "Oh thank God. And I never thought I'd actually be pleased to know Spike was all right." He said.

"But he was not all right." Illyria said.

"You just said-" Wes began. The relief that had flooded his system, prematurely it seemed, had vanished and instead he felt dread.

"I said I saw him. I did not say whether he was either alive or dead." Illyria interrupted.

Wes made himself take a deep breath and speak patiently. "Tell me what you saw and what he said."

"I was meant to be resting but I believe I am almost fully healed now so I got sick of lying there. I felt…what is the expression? At a loose thread?"

"At a loose end." Wes automatically corrected.

"Precisely. So I decided to find something to do. I went to the room that Spike and I have been using to fight in. I punched some of the bags, I practiced the kicks that Spike has been teaching me, oh and Wesley I am most sorry but I put a hole in the wall. Sometimes I am stronger than I think."

"That's not important." Wesley assured her.

"I disagree. In my time, in my home, it was very, very important to be strong. The strongest were those who ruled." Illyria disagreed.

"No I meant the wall is not important." Wes replied wearily. He decided that rather than spend the night with his books he'd go home and get some sleep first. Then, in the morning, he'd get to work. It had been such a draining day- both physically and emotionally. He wouldn't be able to help anyone if he burnt out.

"So you went to the fighting room and trained? Then what?" Wes asked, trying to get the woman back on track.

"Then Spike came. He didn't knock either. But then supposing he did not come through the door I think that is acceptable. He said "Hey Blue." Then he looked around and said, "So we won then?" I told him about the battle that was not really a battle. In my times if someone decided to rain down hail and fire it really _was_ hail and fire. He asked who was alive and who was dead and I told him what I heard Angel say about Gunn. I found myself strangely upset about that Wesley. It is an emotion I've never really experienced until today when you were so…broken. And when Gunn was dispatched. And then Spike said he had to go, he only had a minute to say goodbye, and to tell you all to keep it fake." Illyria explained.

"Could he have said keep it real instead?" Wes asked.

Illyria considered that for a moment. As she thought she cocked her head slightly to the side and her brow furrowed with her concentration and Wes felt a sharp pang in his heart at the so very Fred-like expression on her face. There were times like this when he was reminded- usually painfully- that by taking over Fred's body Illyria had inherited some of Fred's characteristics. "Yes. He said keep it real."

"That was it?" Wes asked.

"Yes." Illyria replied. She came over to Wes's desk and sat on the spare seat. "I found myself upset at Spike's dying too. Why is that? I really do not like this feeling Wesley."

"I don't like it either." Wes said heavily. So now he knew. Now that the dust had cleared the scoreboards had come up with alive: 3 and dead: 2. Add to that the fact that Lorne had left town for good and suddenly this big building was feeling very, very lonely.

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


End file.
